A Rush of Blackbirds (Formerly--Speak Not Against the Sun)
by 4giveMeJane
Summary: Not being able to breath the air at Longbourn after Mr. Collins' longwinded and insincere proposal, Elizabeth heads for the woods where she runs into an injured Mr. Darcy.
1. Chapters 1 thru 4

CHAPTER ONE

No quicker did Elizabeth open the door, then did Mrs. Bennet step forward with an exaggerated expression of great felicitation. Elizabeth, having spent all her humor trying to convince Mr. Collins that her refusal to his marriage proposal was indeed sincere, had none left for her mother. She simply stepped around the lady and strode as calmly as she could manage through the vestibule, and out the front door.

Not far behind, Mr. Collins appeared at the breakfast room door with a look of self importance mixed with the after effects of straight vinegar. He caught a glimpse of Elizabeth's white frock disappearing around the corner. Mrs. Bennet turned toward him hoping for clarification.

"Mr. Collins?" Mrs. Bennet asked as she tried to decipher his odd expression.

Elizabeth had not even stopped to pick up her bonnet. Her legs would not let her tarry. They moved swiftly without being instructed. They carried her further and further away from Longbourn, and that horrible ridiculous man. _"Almost_ as soon as he entered this house…" How arrogant! How insulting! How self-serving can one man be? And how could he accuse her of being bashful? Had he not observed her for more than one second? Or did he see only what flattered his shallow mind?

Without any thought beyond driving the memory of Mr. Collins' nearness and his breath from her mind, Elizabeth picked up her skirt and hastened into the trees. She had no destination, and no will to return anytime soon. Her mother and her ever-present nerves would be in similar spirit no matter what time she returned. Charlotte Lucas was due to come by and relive the Netherfield ball minute by minute, but Elizabeth would not regret missing the reveling. Too much had happened. This morning. Last night. _Oh, last night!_ Elizabeth's head was full of it, and did not get one wink of sleep. Mr. Collins' superior timing had only added to her misery, and she was exultant to be free of everyone. Of everything--even if only for a while. She would take all day, she determined as she gauged the sky, before its vastness got lost behind the towering firs, and gave no thought whatsoever to her thin muslin or delicate slippers.

The trees provided desperately wanted shelter. Her face was flushed, and the coolness of the shaded wood was the answering remedy. Elizabeth had felt exposed out in the open; exposed to Mr. Collins' insincere overtures, her mother's unbridled tongue, her sisters' wild behavior, the poorly concealed contempt emanating from Caroline's and Louisa's smug faces, and _his_ inescapable eyes. Those eyes. Why she could not get Mr. Darcy's stare out of her head even now, was beyond her comprehension.

Though she ran to escape, uncontrollable thoughts kept stride, and swirled around her head. The unexpected and very intense dance with Mr. Darcy would not leave her alone. Though they sparred, he very gently held her hand. Though his face severe, there was something altogether different in his eyes, almost soft. Though she accused, the way he looked at her seemed to be communicating to her something far beyond their spoken conversation. _This would not do!_ If ever she could disappear, she wished it would happen at that very moment.

She picked up her pace along with her gown and even dared to clear small boulders and fallen branches without any fear. This might not be acceptable behavior for a woman of almost one and twenty, but the surge of release Elizabeth felt with each stride and bound kept her from caring one straw what the trees and woodland creatures would think. She filled her lungs with the scents of moss, earthy lichen, and sharp resinous sap. The damp coolness of the ground spread quickly through her house shoes and chilled her feet, and it gave her a certain measure of boldness. If the tiny beasts were to have a forest ball this evening, she was happy to give them all the scandalous conversation they would need.

"ACCORDING TO THE PRACTICE OF ELEGANT FEMALES!" she let escape from her lips with great volume.

Several black birds were disturbed and flew directly in front of her. Elizabeth drew a sudden breath and stopped where she was. Startled. Waiting. After several seconds, when the furious winging faded, and no one hushed or chastened her, she hesitantly smiled, relieved, and continued forward.

Once again, her mind assaulted her. Why did not Wickham come and claim his dance? Why did Mr. Collins forego decorum and speak to Mr. Darcy without introduction? And why, _why _does her family insist on constantly humiliating her? Mr. Collins was unadulterated proof that idiocy runs on both sides of the family. Elizabeth wondered if she and Jane might have sudden convulsions and surrender to it one day. Maybe then she would be free of constant mortification, and would be quite happy to marry a seriously stupid man. _"Ah, maybe there was some merit to ignorance,"_ she mused.

Having cut through the wood, Elizabeth found herself on a familiar path more than two miles from Longbourn. She slowed considerably and allowed herself to catch her breath, as she realized just how far she had gone, and how exerted she was. But she was far from keeping her mind in check, so she kept walking forward, diverting herself with a Latin verse, still no destination in mind.

"Festina lente," she recited aloud. "Make haste slowly."

Abruptly, a horse, completely saddled, yet without a rider and obviously spooked, galloped past Elizabeth. She made way for it, and watched in shock as it continued west at a great speed. Elizabeth looked scrupulously around for the rider, yet there was no one in her view. Maybe the horse escaped before it was even mounted, she thought as she started walking again.

Curious, but not expecting her curiosity to be quenched, she kept on the path looking to each side. Coming to a crest, Elizabeth could see dark ominous clouds coming her way. She hesitated, wondering if her constitution could outdo Jane's and possibly not succumb to a nasty cold. Of course, Jane was much more delicate than she was. She would risk it. Even if she became so afflicted, she would take a red nose and a day or two in bed in exchange for a few more hours away from her mother's rants, and that odious man.

Down the crest Elizabeth descended, a new power swelling inside. Her fear of living a lie outweighed her fear of poverty. Not that she gave Mr. Collins' offer one thought, but a lesser woman could. If one was allowed to admire oneself, Elizabeth did that moment. Although Jane would never have to choose between love and money, Elizabeth did, and love won out. Or was it poverty?

Her thoughts were thus occupied when she noticed what looked like a twisted log by the side of the path about a hundred yards away--except this log moved slightly. Elizabeth took in a sudden breath. The rider! In just a few moments she found herself kneeling at his side. He was face down.

"Sir, please let me be of some assistance to you."

No reply was made. The rider did not stir. Elizabeth quickly took a hold of his shoulder with one hand, and slid her other hand under his ear and cheek. She gently rolled him to face her, holding his head in her hand. Crimson trickled from a gash in his forehead, and leaves stuck to his face obscuring part of his features, but Elizabeth knew exactly whose coat she was gripping and whose head she was cradling.

"Mr. Darcy!"

She took in his unconscious face and twisted frame, her mind running in every different direction, not knowing what to do next. To her great relief, he groaned, and after a few moments, his eyes blinked open. He stared at her for several seconds, and his mouth opened as if to speak, but no voice joined the movement.

"Mr. Darcy, I am here to assist you, for you are quite injured."

Mr. Darcy continued to stare, and Elizabeth, being so close, wanted to retreat, but she knew he was in danger of losing too much blood. She carefully slid her hand from under his head and placed his head gently down on the leaves below. She reached into her pocket for her handkerchief, and after gently removing the leaves, started to dab the blood from the injury to assess the severity. The blood would not clear, and she tried to keep her countenance for his sake.

"You have taken quite a fall, sir." The handkerchief was soaked in no time. This could not be good, she kept telling herself, all the while looking into his eyes that seemed to be searching and questioning hers. Was it was possible he hit his head hard enough not to recognize her?

Suddenly his hand was on her arm stopping her from her work.

"Miss Bennet, have you seen my horse?" he managed to ask in a weak voice.

She looked at him with astonishment. Here he lies, bleeding before her, yet he inquires about his horse. "Your horse is in Meryton by now, Mr. Darcy. Although I am no physician, I would say that you should not continue your ride this morning." She smiled at him, to calm him, and he looked back puzzled.

He moved to sit up, but Elizabeth stopped him. "Please, Mr. Darcy. Your head is bleeding. It is not safe for you to sit up at this time." She put her soaked handkerchief down on the ground. "I am afraid my handkerchief was not sufficient, do you have your own?" she requested, trying to see if he could comprehend her.

Mr. Darcy hesitated for a moment, then produced one from his coat pocket. Elizabeth continued with her mission, this time holding it firmly against his head. "This might be unpleasant, but you have already lost enough blood."

"Miss Bennet, I am very sorry to cause you this trouble." He put his hand over hers to hold the handkerchief himself. "I am able to take over from here."

She quickly slid her hand away and moved further from him as he tried to sit upright. He moved, but stiffened and made an oath under his breath. Elizabeth saw his pain and moved toward him again.

"What is it, sir?"

"Forgive me, Miss Bennet, but I think my left ankle is broken." He laid back down still holding his head, and this time noticed the menacing sky.

"What are you doing out of doors when it is obvious the weather will turn?" he demanded.

Elizabeth looked at him incredulously. "Mr. Darcy, you lay here ruining good handkerchiefs with excessive blood, and with an ankle that in your estimation is useless for the time being, and yet you chastise me for being outdoors with threatening clouds? If I was not a gentleman's daughter, and a Christian, I might just leave you here with no one but yourself to berate."

Finally smiling, Mr. Darcy looked up at her. "Miss Bennet, forgive me again. I was only thinking that you might catch cold like your sister those few weeks ago."

Elizabeth smiled back. "I weighed the options when I saw the clouds, Mr. Darcy, and found it worth the risk. And now look at what good has come from my reckless behavior. This morning has been a grim one for both of us, but now I can redeem mine by helping you."

An awkward silence enveloped them as they stared at each other. Elizabeth tried to recall her Latin to distract herself, but she could only think of the word for eyes. Oculus_._ _What was it about his eyes?_ She tried her best not to look at him, but he was beseeching her, and she felt that he was most likely not himself at all. He must have hit his head with quite some force!

Sprinkles of rain started to spatter around them, giving her something else to think on. "Sir, we need to find you some shelter until I can get some help."

"I do not need shelter, Miss Bennet, though you do. I will not send you out in the rain to secure help for me."

"You truly are ridiculous! I will help you to that large oak and then I will hurry to Netherfield since it is closest."

"Miss Bennet--" He was not going to give up easily, but he was no match for Elizabeth. Not today.

"Mr. Darcy, you can make this as difficult and unpleasant as you would like, but I am going to get assistance for you. You may try to stop me, but I wager I am swifter than you at the moment. Catch me if you are able, but I am determined."

A sudden downpour came down, assaulting them. They stared at each other, neither wanting to give in, but the rain was soaking them through. Elizabeth's pins gave way, and her thick hair came tumbling down around her face and back, snapping Darcy out of his stare.

"I will take your assistance to get under the oak, Miss Bennet," he conceded.

Mr. Darcy sat up, and with Elizabeth's help, hopped on one foot to stand. He stifled a groan of pain. With a quick concerned glance at him, Elizabeth ducked under his left arm to support his weight. There was a distinct difference in their heights, and the side of Elizabeth's face was placed against his chest. She could hear his heart pounding wildly. He must have been in more pain then he was letting on. She tried not to think about how she had never been this close to any man besides her own father, and how he smelled of earth and cloves, and failed.

"Adversus solem ne loquitor," Elizabeth said under her breath.

"And do you consider yourself the sun, Miss Bennet?" Darcy asked with amusement mixed with his obvious pain. "You just said to _speak not against the sun_... in Latin."

Not turning her head, and still supporting his weight, Elizabeth smiled and answered. "Forgive me. That came out a little louder than I intended."

"Indeed. No one should argue with the sun, Miss Bennet. And I should know by now, that arguing with you is a lost cause."

"It is a lost cause when it is over a non-issue, as to whether or not I am going to help a fellow human being in trouble, Mr. Darcy."

The great tree was fifty yards away, and the two had made it safely. Mr. Darcy was carefully lowered under its shelter, and Elizabeth was about to turn to seek Netherfield when he touched her arm once again. This time, an unexpected thrill traveled through Elizabeth, sending her heart racing. She looked down at him surprised, but tried to maintain the rest of her countenance, or her sense of balance at the least.

"Miss Elizabeth, I am certain that rain will let up in a few minutes. Please let me entreat you to stay here until the worst has passed," he pleaded softly. His face was in earnest, and Elizabeth could see that the rain had opened up the wound on his head again.

"I will stay if you let me stop your head from pouring forth anymore blood." He was all relief as she sat down next to him, and he produced the handkerchief. She took it from him and pressed it against the wound once more trying not to look in his dark eyes.

"So, Mr. Darcy, how did you get thrown? Or is that improper to ask a gentleman, since true gentlemen never get thrown from their horses," she teased uneasily as a curl came forward and covered part of her eye. She peered at him around the stray lock.

Darcy looked cautiously at her. "Gentlemen do get thrown from their horses, Miss Elizabeth, but a true gentleman leaves no evidence of it occurring. I think that I will have to buy your silence."

At that moment, a smile broke across his face like she had never observed before. It was lighthearted, teasing, but penetrating at the same time. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. She was almost dumbfounded, and quickly looked away. She had acknowledged that he was handsome the first time she set eyes on him at the assembly, but she had never thought of it again. His pride, superior airs, and his insult directed at her, spread over him like an infection, and she had actually started to believe that he was very ill favored. That was until now, for she was forcibly struck by him. He was more than a puzzle to her, and she couldn't help but be completely fascinated and offended by him all at the same time. She managed to look back at him and gathered her thoughts.

"I found out just this morning that I am impervious to money, Mr. Darcy." She pulled the handkerchief away to see if the bleeding has stopped. "But do not worry, I will not tell our general acquaintance of your spill, sir, if you try forget how wild I must look now all muddy and soaked through." At that very moment, she involuntarily shivered, and realized for the first time how her attire was appropriate for breakfast indoors, but not wise for foul weather in mixed company.

Immediately, Darcy shrugged his coat off. "How inconsiderate of me, Miss Elizabeth. Please take my coat. You must be chilled to the bone." He threw it over her slender frame and it enveloped her, making her look like a small child.

"Thank you, sir… of what were we speaking?" she asked trying to call the attention away from herself.

"You were inquiring whether true gentlemen get thrown from their horses," her reminded her with a knowing smile.

She nodded. "That is right. Please proceed."

"A small flock of birds came out of the woods and startled my horse."

Elizabeth went pale, as she remembered the birds that she startled just minutes before. She dropped her hand from his forehead. Darcy noticed her change in color. "Are you quite well, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth's thoughts were everywhere. Was her unguarded behavior responsible for his injuries? Surely there were lots of birds in the area… but… This was dreadful! She was mortified by her sisters' behavior at the ball, but no one lay bruised and bleeding from Kitty and Lydia's ill manners.

"Miss Elizabeth?" Darcy was beyond concern. "Are you chilled? What can I do for you?"

Elizabeth laughed nervously at his kind exclamation. "No, sir, I am quite well." She looked around trying to regain herself. "I just noticed that the rain has slowed. I should go on my errand now. You should be seen by Mr. Jones within the hour. I must set off."

She stood before he could reach her again. "I will inform the coachman and tell him to send for Mr. Jones while you are fetched here." She lingered, her face almost pained, while he stared at her absolutely confused.

"I am so sorry that you were injured, Mr. Darcy. So deeply sorry. Good day." She curtsied, but Darcy would have none of it.

"Miss Bennet! You will stay at Netherfield and get dry clothes before you are taken home to Longbourn." It was not a question.

"No, sir. I couldn't let Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst see me like this." She looked down at herself, wet, muddy and wearing his coat. "Please excuse my frankness, but they do not need much reason to skip from dislike to despise, and my appearance will be the catalyst. I do not think I could bear it. I will talk to Mr. Bingley's coachman and then make my way home."

"That is utterly unacceptable, Miss Bennet! You will not walk home from Netherfield in this weather. I do not care if your vanity is injured. I do not care if your clothes are six _feet _deep in mud, but I will not have you shivering and soaked through, catching God knows what on my behalf!"

Elizabeth smiled at his concern, and decided to appease him if she was ever going to leave. "Certainly. You are right. I am sorry to distress you, Mr. Darcy. Of course I will dry off and take the carriage home. Thank you for your concern."

Darcy eyed her, not certain if he believed her. "One more thing… I should warn you, Miss Bennet. We were planning on leaving for London this morning. You will definitely hear of it, although I think the trip will be delayed on my account."

She stared at him not comprehending fully. "The entire party?"

Darcy dropped his eyes. "Yes. Mr. Bingley has pressing business and we decided to accompany him. His business might keep us there—all winter, I mean." He looked back up at her.

She maintained her countenance and let the exchange sink in for several seconds. "Does he mean to quit the house altogether?"

"Nothing is settled, Miss Bennet. I am sorry that you had to find out like this. Caroline was writing your sister Jane when I left for my ride."

Elizabeth had never felt more chilled or numb. "I see. I thank you for relating that information, Mr. Darcy. I will leave you now." She curtsied again and then hurried away.

CHAPTER TWO

His job was done, but it had not been easy. He no doubt had deep feelings for Jane, but convincing Bingley that Jane's feelings for him were not equal to his, was a great chore. With the help of Caroline and Louisa, Darcy chipped away at Bingley's resolve.

They were able to convince the poor man that although Miss Bennet was sweet and attentive, her heart was not invested. Darcy had to admit that he felt badly for his friend, but something drastic had to be done. Everyone at the ball last night had their eyes fixed on them, and in turn, all were expecting a declaration from Bingley toward the lady soon. There was no time to spare, and Bingley's sisters were most eager to assist. Together, they had broken him, and now they needed to get him to London before he changed his mind. And he was very capable of doing that.

Darcy had already packed, and could not stand to watch his friend as he stumbled around in a broken hearted daze, trying to get his affairs in order to leave. He would take one last ride.

It was a crisp morning, and Darcy had to admit that Hertfordshire was a beautiful place. No great rocks and mountains, but the rolling green hills and the woods pleased. He toured the park around Netherfield, mildly feeling the sting of the loss he tried not to think about. He tried not to think about how her small hand felt in his, how her plump lips tightened into a thin line when she was cross, and he tried not to think about how her eyes changed color with what she wore. Last night they were light green. They matched her gown perfectly. And when he took her hand to dance, those green eyes pierced right through him like she knew every thought he has ever had. He was in awe, he was ashamed, and he was relieved. For if she could read his thoughts, a great slap would have come hard upon his cheek. Oh, but what a pleasure it was to see the fire in those amazing eyes of hers. Darcy smiled slightly, and he couldn't help but think of how very worth a slap from Miss Elizabeth Bennet might be, if he was a lesser man.

London was for more than just Bingley's sake. This was for his sake too. He was in danger now, and he felt it acutely. What he felt now, was more than the sharp edged flirtation he experienced during her stay at Netherfield. Darcy was physically aware of her no matter where she moved in a room. He could pick her laughter out of dozens. Her face and her form were behind his lids when he lay down. _No. This must end as well._

Darcy was less than a mile from Netherfield on his way back. He encountered a muddy stretch of road, and not wanting to change his trousers before they departed, he took his horse off the road and close to the wood. There were branches and rocks to navigate around, and Darcy switched the reigns from one hand to the other, as he had to duck and keep a low branch from sweeping him off of the saddle.

At the very moment of exchange, a small flock of black birds came suddenly from out of the wood. They flew low and exited directly in front of the horse. Darcy's horse reared up, and Darcy held on to what little of the reigns he had. The birds kept coming, and the horse came down and bolted in the opposite direction. Darcy lost his grip on the reigns and grasped for the mane, only to have it slip out from under his glove. He tumbled down, but his left foot caught in the stirrup while his body continued toward the ground.

The horse continued at full gallop dragging Darcy along until his head hit a rock. His ankle came loose and he was freed. He stopped with a dull thud to the damp ground below. His body was twisted unnaturally. And then there was nothing.

And more nothing.

And then… a soft voice echoed in his ear. It seemed very far away, as if it was resounding across a lake. And even though it was sweet and dreamlike, it caused him pain. Great pain. A gentle hand cradled his head. He heard the melodic voice again, but it was closer. Very close this time.

"Mr. Darcy!"

He knew that voice, but he was dreaming. It was only a dream. Warmth washed over his face and soft fingers caressed his hair. Yes, he was dreaming… but the pain? There was a great deal of pain. He could hear shallow breathing. Not his. He could feel the small hand cradling his head lightly tremble. _Oh!_ _His head!_ He suddenly became very aware of his head. It was pounding and his ears were ringing. His name rang in his head and bounced back and forth off of his skull.

Darcy opened his eyes, but saw nothing. Was this still a dream? Blackness? Flashes of light and color paused but a second, and then stole away just as quickly. He blinked and the light and the colors started to assemble. They slowly came together and formed a picture. A curious but comely picture.

Lovely grey eyes looked down on him. They were so close and so beautiful, but they were also frightened. Darcy wanted to tell the eyes not to worry, that it was just a dream, but no sound came from his lips. The eyes looked around for help, but saw none and came to rest on him again.

The picture became clearer for Darcy as his wits began to return. The lovely eyes belonged to Elizabeth Bennet! She was cradling his head and leaning over him. _Where was he? What was she doing?_

She spoke again, and told him that he was injured. Her cheeks were flushed and even though her body was still, he could see in her eyes that something indeed was very wrong. Her words sank in, and he finally understood. He felt her slip her hand from underneath his head and gently lay it down on the leaves below. Pressure was put on his forehead and Darcy winced. He looked up at Elizabeth who was gently wiping scarlet red from his brow.

"You have taken quite a fall, sir." Elizabeth, more like a gauzy vision, than flesh and bone, gently dabbed his head and smiled with concern.

It took a few seconds, but Darcy heard and comprehended every word she said. And even though he knew he was laid out on the ground bleeding, he did not know how or why, when a sudden flash of a branch and black birds streaked by.

His reflexes kicked in, and his strong hand was on her arm in an instant. She was surprised at his movement, but her eyes softened when she heard him inquire after his runaway horse. She laughed at him and told him just where he could find it.

_Meryton_, he thought as he tried to get up… but she stopped him. She would not have him get up while he was bleeding so. She gently pulled his arm away from hers and then leaned in toward him. Her beautiful grey eyes met his. He had never seen eyes quite that shade before. Grey, but with small flecks of green and blue. So calming, so serene.

"I am afraid my handkerchief was not sufficient, do you have your own?"

He could feel the warmth from her breath, and thought that maybe he did not fall from a horse at all, but Elizabeth Bennet herself stunned him, bewitched him, and he would never be able to act or speak on his own again. Darcy's head was spinning, and he was certain that he was under her spell, and would do or say anything she wished. He would have given her Pemberly entirely, and he would have gone and lived in the woodpile, if she had asked. All she had to do was ask…

Elizabeth stared at him with patience and concern as he registered her actual request. _She asked for a handkerchief, you fool! _

Darcy found his pocket and produced the kerchief. He watched almost helplessly as she focused on his brow, and this time put direct pressure on the wound. He might have flinched, but he felt nothing. His mind was trying to make sense of the vision before him. The very woman he was trying to escape this very day, kneeling like an angel next to him with nothing but concern on her lovely face. He needed to get his bearings and quit this place immediately!

"Miss Bennet, I am very sorry to cause you this trouble." He put his hand over hers to hold the handkerchief himself. "I am able to take over from here." He felt her slender hand slip out from under his, and watched her back away from him slightly. Darcy moved, but his ankle screamed. Every nerve in his body reacted to the excruciating pain, and he thought that he might lose consciousness once more.

_Damn it!_ His ankle was broken. There was no possibility he could walk at all. He was stuck there. With her. And soon he would own nothing but a woodpile. After he apologized for his outburst, he laid back and saw the thick clouds that matched her eyes. _How did she do that? _

As his head quit spinning, he started to feel like himself. Now he could put an end to his ridiculous thoughts, and figure a way out from here and away from her. He did his best to converse with Elizabeth without emotion, but her wit and teasing manner softened him, and he couldn't help but admire her, as he had from their very first meeting—as he had every time their paths crossed. He was quite an idiot to think that he would feel anything less.

The heavens opened and the heavy drops started. Try as he may to dissuade her from seeking help in the downpour, she would not back down. The unrelenting rain streamed down her set face, and dripped from her chin. Her pinned hair came loose and spilled in thick dark tresses down her back and around her face. He was stunned. Darcy thought that she had never looked lovelier than she did at that moment. She was an absolute vision. An angelic being, with heaven itself baptizing her in front of his very eyes. He conceded. He could at least get her out of the rain for a while. He accepted her help to get him sheltered under the great oak.

If ever Elizabeth Bennet were to slap someone, Darcy was certain now would be the proper time. Elizabeth was tucked under his coat with her arm around his waist, and his arm over her narrow shoulders. Her head was against his heart and her right side matched up against his left. He could smell her hair and the dampness made it that much more potent. It was a mixture of lavender and roses, and he was certain his head spun from that, and not the blow he had received. Her slender body was surprisingly strong and it was only the sensation of Elizabeth clasping him, and her heady scent that kept him from screaming out in pain at every step. Every nerve in his body was on edge, and he knew it was not from his injuries. Elizabeth Bennet was holding him tightly, and he was very aware of it.

Having no idea that he deserved a great slap, Elizabeth smiled and talked of Latin and obstinacy with him while they made their way to the oak. Once Darcy was at the base of the tree, Elizabeth turned to fetch help. Without thinking, Darcy reached for her arm. He had taken his gloves off before they journeyed to the tree, and the feel of her soft skin sent a jolt through him. He might have to slap himself. "_What kind of a gentleman am I?_" he thought to himself, as she looked back at him completely surprised.

"Miss Elizabeth, I am certain that the rain will let up in a few minutes. Please let me entreat you to stay here until the worst has passed," he pleaded softly, while warring with himself to finally put distance between them. How could he be so kind to his friend, and yet not do the same for himself?

The rain had opened up his wound again, so Elizabeth agreed to stay, and she took up the handkerchief again to stop the bleeding. Part of Mr. Darcy wished that he had enough blood to pour out for the next several hours just to keep her close by, but he shook off the thought.

The conversation turned to just how Mr. Darcy fell from his horse, and the lady teased him, and smiled at him while she tenderly cared for his wound.

And that was it. The struggle was over.

There was something in the way she delivered her speech, something in her eyes, in her lifted brow, and the way she looked at him through an errant curl, that completely undid Mr. Darcy. He should be as offensive as he possibly could, and end this right now, yet he wanted nothing more than to observe her flawless skin, and see those chameleon eyes turn toward him from under her dark lashes. He was her prisoner now, and he did not care to be anywhere else.

Darcy held on for as long as he could. He cautiously teased her back, and then, as if he jumped right off of a cliff, he let all pretenses go and smiled genuinely at Elizabeth. He had smiled at her dozens of times by now, but this time it was without pretense, without reserve and without fear. All the admiration, adoration, attraction--everything that he felt for her was let loose within his smile. He thought he noticed Elizabeth react differently to him, for she stared back for a few seconds, but then she broke the gaze.

She checked the progress of his head, and then made a pert promise not to tell of his fall, if he would forget her "wild" appearance. As if he would ever be able to forget the way she looked right now. Her dark hair down reaching over halfway down her back, her wet cheeks still pink from her walk. And then… she shivered.

_What a rake I am!_ He chastised himself as he had been admiring his captivating companion, whose thin dress was soaked through and clung to her, not thinking once about giving her his riding coat. Immediately, Darcy shrugged his coat off.

"How inconsiderate of me, Miss Elizabeth. Please take my coat. You must be chilled to the bone."

At that very moment, Darcy became her protector, even if from himself. He would not see this woman hurt, compromised, or gossiped about, and he swore to himself that he would do everything in his power to see to it that Elizabeth was safe, happy and loved.

He swung his coat over her shoulders and sighed with relief when he saw her climb into it gratefully. He smiled when she peeked at him from under the huge wool lapels, and right before him, her eyes transformed from grey to deep mossy green, exactly like his riding coat.

What kind of a creature was she? She was mythical, appearing out if nowhere, windswept, in gossamer white. She was only missing her translucent wings or the churning wave she rode in on. He was either, completely and utterly in love with this woman, or he had hit his head so hard, that he would drool for the rest of his life and never wake up from this fantasy. Either option sufficed.

Darcy somehow was able to collect himself, and continued to relate to Elizabeth how black birds spooked his horse, when she suddenly went white. Although she had his coat on, he was convinced that a chill had taken hold of her. Elizabeth assured him that she was well and noticed that the rain had lessened, and stated that she should leave for help immediately.

Uneasy for her health, Darcy made her promise to stay at Netherfield to dry off. He took comfort in knowing that he would be brought back by that time, and then he would make sure that she was safely taken home in a carriage.

But before she could take off, he had to confess something to her. They were to leave Netherfield. The change in her countenance and voice when she realized what they had planned, pierced Darcy. He had just sworn to himself that he would never hurt her, and he already broke his own pact. Darcy did not have the time or the inclination to explain anything to her. He wanted her to be safe and warm. There would be other chances to make this up to her. He let Elizabeth go and watched her intently until she disappeared around a bend.

When she was completely out of his sight, Darcy threw back his head against the tree. What had just happened? He was not the same person who mounted a horse only an hour ago.

CHAPTER THREE

Mrs. Bennet's distant cries of family honor and duty were muffled when Jane closed the door, her arms full of linens. She walked over to Elizabeth, who shivered in her bed. "Here Lizzy, these were by the fire." She piled warm blankets on her sister and then grabbed a free hand to warm it. "Charlotte Lucas came by with Maria one half hour after you left. She could see how distressed our cousin was, as Mama would not stop telling him that she would make you marry him, so Charlotte invited him to dinner at Lucas Lodge. He seemed quite relieved to quit this house, as were those he left behind."

Both sisters smiled and couldn't hold back a few giggles. "Poor, dear Charlotte," Elizabeth exclaimed.

Jane moved in to help towel dry Elizabeth's hair. "I cannot even imagine such a day. Refusing a marriage proposal and then happening upon poor Mr. Darcy like that!"

Although Jane was concerned for Elizabeth, she was relieved to learn from Lizzy that the occupants of Netherfield would not be leaving like Caroline's letter had stated. "I do not know if your refusal to dry yourself, and take their carriage home, will shock them more than if you did go the door, dripping wet and wearing Mr. Darcy's riding coat."

Elizabeth smiled. "It was the lesser of two evils, not having to feel the dreaded sisters glares. But Mr. Darcy will not be pleased when he finds out that I left his riding coat with the groomsman… not that I should care to please him."

Jane looked at her sister with interest. "Tell me Lizzy, was he kind to you?"

Elizabeth met her beloved sister's searching eyes. "Yes. As kind as that gentleman is capable of. I have never encountered such immense pride, though. He would have rather crawled back to Netherfield than have me assist him!"

"Lizzy, might you think that it was his deep concern for your well being, and not his immense pride, that prevented him from seeing you out in the mud and rain?" Jane questioned knowingly.

"Jane, Mr. Darcy does puzzle me. He is capable of perfect civility, and at moments, great ease and charm. I see flashes of it, yet in the next moment, he looks at me as though I have offended him to his core. It is quite disconcerting." She looked at Jane with a sly smile. "I honestly think that any kindness he showed today, was a direct result of the blow to his head."

Jane sat next to Elizabeth. "I may not be as quick and clever as you, Lizzy, but maybe just this one time, I have observed what you have missed." Elizabeth looked at her expectantly. Jane smiled. "Have you not seen how preoccupied he is by you?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "No Jane. I know he looks at me, but it is only to find fault."

Jane laughed. "Lizzy, he is _not_ finding fault in you. That is why he is looking. Why would he stare at something unpleasant? It is against nature. He cannot keep his eyes off of you, and I do not doubt this most recent encounter will have even further effect on where he rests his eyes, sister." Jane jostled her damp hair playfully.

Elizabeth looked at her in humor and unbelief. "Jane! I wish you would give up your observances immediately, for they do you no credit."

That night, Elizabeth lay in bed wondering what the day meant. Mr. Collins' proposal was completely driven out of her head, which was now full of Mr. Darcy. She had not even had one stray thought for Wickham. It was only the enigmatic man who may or may not be finding fault with her, that occupied almost every thought. Was he very angry with her for not doing what she promised and stay at Netherfield? How could she properly inquire about his health? Should she tell him that it was all her fault that he was injured in the first place? Was Jane right? Could he possibly be admiring her instead of disapproving? And lastly, why did his touch cause her such an unexpected thrill? It was all too much, and even though it was apparent her jaunt through the rain had no ill effects on her health, Elizabeth felt dizzy and sick to her stomach. She tried to give in to the exhaustion of the day, but she could not stop wondering what was to come.

And there was plenty to come. Mr. Collins had in the course of two days, most willingly transferred his enraptured heart to Charlotte Lucas, and was to marry her in one month's time. As distasteful as that was for Elizabeth to see her good friend give herself over to such a man, Elizabeth bit her tongue and wished Charlotte and her intended great joy. Uncle and Aunt Gardiner, great favorites of Elizabeth, had come from London with their four little children for Christmas. And Mr. Wickham was seen less frequently at Longbourn, since he had been charmed by a certain Miss King, and her ten thousand pounds. But most importantly, Netherfield Park still held all its occupants. No one fled to London.

It took two stable boys and a groomsman to carry Darcy upstairs to his room. Bingley went before him and made sure that his sisters were in another part of the house. Darcy was wet and muddy with dried blood caked on his forehead and down one side of his face. The boot on his injured ankle was taken off in the carriage in hopes that that rain and cold had not let it swell too much. His ankle was reddish purple and turned unnaturally inward.

Once in Darcy's room, Bingley hovered over Darcy throwing some pillows under his head, and continually asked for Mr. Jones to be brought up directly when he arrived.

Darcy concentrated on not crying out every time his ankle was jostled, but also wondered about a certain person keeping dry, and waiting for the carriage. Only when he was set upon a couch in his room, and the friends were left alone, did Darcy ask Bingley about Elizabeth.

"She left quickly for Longbourn as soon as she informed Mr. Fuller where you could be found," Bingley answered.

Darcy roared. "How could you let her leave like that? She was soaked and will catch her death!"

"Darcy, calm yourself, man! As I said, I did not see her! She did not come to the house. She went directly to the stables. Fuller tried to get her to dry herself, but she would have none of it. She left your coat with him."

"She left my bloody coat?" Darcy forgot his injuries and swung his leg off of the couch and regretted it immediately. He let out another howl, while Bingley tried not to laugh.

Bingley helped Darcy to get his leg back up on the couch. Darcy was out of breath, and knew that he was making a spectacle of himself. He saw the smile that Bingley was stifling.

"I am so glad that I can amuse you in this way, Charles." His tone was acidic, and he lay back frustrated, and in a great deal of pain.

"I am just as concerned about Miss Elizabeth as you are, Darcy, but I am sure she will be fine. Even though she is slight, she does not seem as delicate as Miss Bennet. Miss Elizabeth seems a hearty little thing, do you not think?"

Darcy could see instantly that his friend was already thinking about Jane. He knew his face well, and he recognized that particular look. He tried to keep the subject to another sister.

"Miss Elizabeth was shivering, Bingley. She was soaked through, and I let her go out in the rain and the mud," Darcy moaned.

"How did she find you in the first place? You were no where near Longbourn."

"I do not doubt she was on a walk. But the rain had not started when she found me. I caused her to stay out in it. I caused her to not to be able to make it back to Longbourn before the rain started. "

"I will call on her tomorrow at Longbourn to inquire about her health, Darcy. Will that make you feel better?"

Darcy looked over at Bingley who was still thinking of more than just Elizabeth. "Bingley, you, Caroline and the Hursts should go to London. I will catch up…"

"You are preposterous! I will not leave you behind, Darcy. Besides, I can get what little business I have done in a day. Alone. The rest can be done through couriers."

Darcy knew that all the work he had done this morning was unraveling, as he could see hope once again on his friend's face. He was exhausted, injured, and had too much on his mind to do anything about it.

Bingley was already pleased with the way things were working out, and could not but help to be secretly thankful that Darcy lost control of his horse, for the day was looking up.

"I will tell you what. I will ride up to London tomorrow, and Caroline can call at Longbourn and explain our change in plans. She can bring news of Miss Elizabeth back."

He paced the room as his plans expanded. "Also, how rude would it be for us to take off in this manner without taking leave of all of our good friends? I have promised to have dinner with half a dozen families. No, that will not do. I am going down to talk with Caroline straight away. London is not a good idea. Not at all."

"Bingley?" Darcy asked calmly. His friend looked over at him. "Promise me you will be careful. Take your time, and make sure that Miss Bennet returns your affections. There is no rush."

Bingley's face beamed as he took two long strides over to where Darcy lay. "I promise, friend." Bingley turned to walk toward the door when he stopped and turned back around. There was a puzzled look on his face. "Darcy? May I ask you something?"

Darcy looked at him. "You can ask, I cannot promise if I will answer."

"I told you that I was just as concerned about Miss Elizabeth as you were." Bingley lifted one eyebrow. "Is that a falsehood?"

Caroline called on Jane the day after the accident, bringing news of Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth made excuses and kept upstairs, but she was very anxious to hear how Mr. Darcy got on. She waited until Caroline rolled away in the very carriage she was supposed to have waited for, when she ran downstairs to Jane. Jane relayed that Mr. Darcy was indisposed for six weeks, and his young sister, Georgiana, was coming down to help him pass his time. Caroline made it clear that she would be very much involved in entertaining Miss Darcy, and little of the residents of Netherfield Park would be seen by anyone in Hertfordshire, if at all. That was perfectly fine with Elizabeth, especially where the sisters were concerned, and she told Jane so, and was slightly reprimanded for her unkindness, but forgiven just as quickly.

Surprisingly, and most likely against Caroline's wishes and knowledge, Mr. Bingley came calling at Longbourn two days later. Elizabeth wondered if he had to lower himself from an upper story while his sister was distracted cooking plump children. She also noted that it was fortuitous that her young visiting cousins were mostly lean and thus safe. Mrs. Bennet could barely contain her raptures, and Bingley was immediately invited to dinner the following night, which he graciously accepted, though _they_ were merely having fish.

Mr. Bingley was able to get his business done in London alone and conveyed that he had no intention of wintering there. Though most of his attention was showered rightly on Jane, Elizabeth thought—no—she was certain that Mr. Bingley smiled at her too much. Not in the way that he smiled at Jane, but in a way that made it seem that he was in on a private joke with her. She decided not to dwell on it, and instead was content to be happy for Jane, who was outwardly pleased.

For the next few weeks, Elizabeth occupied herself with her aunt and the young Gardiners, visiting their Aunt Phillips and the shops in Meryton, when the weather permitted. Bingley was a fixture by now at Longbourn, always kind, and always smiling at Elizabeth in a particular manner, never failing to make her wonder if she would ever see Mr. Darcy again. Why would he tell her that he was planning on leaving, yet not leave? What was he really trying to convey to her. She longed to see him, to try to read his face, to see if the man she left under the oak truly existed, and to have any one of the hundred of questions that she had finally answered.

"Darcy is very ill tempered these days, even with the addition of his sister," Mr. Bingley declared as they had tea one day. Bingley glanced over at Elizabeth and back at his tea before he continued. "He is an active man, and only being able to get as far as the garden is taking its toll on the poor fellow. He must have been a bear when you happened upon him, Miss Elizabeth."

Elizabeth looked up from her tea. All eyes were on her. Not much had been said to her family on the subject of Elizabeth's assistance, except to Jane. Elizabeth felt that a detailed description of her involvement would only bring unneeded speculation and gossip. If Mr. Darcy had not been so injured, it could have been a very compromising situation. So, she only spoke of her finding him and running for help.

"If you say 'bear' meaning unconscious and bleeding profusely—then by all means, Mr. Bingley, he was a great bear." She smiled innocently and took another sip.

"Good heavens, Lizzy! He was bleeding profusely? How shocking! You did not relate that to us," complained Mrs. Bennet, as she considered that the two who preceded the Good Samaritan, most likely had excellent and sound reasons to pass on the opposite side of the road.

"You did not ask me anything about it, Mama," Elizabeth commented calmly.

Lydia snorted. "No, Mama was too busy with our cousin, Mr. Collins, who was _violently in love_ at the time." Kitty and Lydia both held back laughter, while Aunt Gardiner shot them looks to behave.

"I do have it in my power to tell you how upset I was when I found out you had left on foot in the rain to return to Longbourn, instead of taking shelter in my home, Miss Elizabeth," Bingley said with sincerity, and Elizabeth felt it fully.

"Please forgive me, Mr. Bingley. You needed only to worry about Mr. Darcy, and I did not mind the walk one bit. I did not catch cold, I assure you." She hesitated. _Should she say it? _ "Please also convey that to Mr. Darcy for me, as I know I broke a promise to him."

"Well, you will have to convey that information yourself, Miss Elizabeth." She looked at him in surprise, as did the rest of the room, as if he would produce the gentleman from his trouser pocket at that very moment. "I am to extend an invitation to the two eldest Miss Bennets to lunch at Netherfield tomorrow. Miss Darcy is staying with us and longs for more diverse company. May I tell her that you will attend?"

Jane and Elizabeth looked at each other, the former happy, and the latter not certain at all how she felt. "Certainly," Jane answered for the both of them. "It will be our pleasure and honor to meet Miss Darcy."

CHAPTER FOUR

The carriage ride seemed unbearably long. Elizabeth had thought too much about what she should wear, and now could not even recall what she spent hours choosing, as she looked out the window. It frightened her to think what it would be like to see him again, after one month. The questions that she troubled over the night of the accident, had tripled since, and she had absolutely no answers, only fears that they would always go unexplained and unexplored. Fears that his dark eyes would be severe, and worse of all, fears that by seeing him again, she would think of him even more, and that was not to be borne.

Jane squeezed her hand as they pulled in front of the great house.

Caroline and Louisa stood reluctantly without a hint of a smile, when the Miss Bennets were shown into the drawing room. Mr. Bingley practically bounded over to greet the two ladies. Elizabeth could see the sisters exchange disapproving glances.

As Bingley invited them to sit, Elizabeth quickly scanned the room, was able to find Mr. Darcy standing up very straight, near a window. He had a cane in his left hand, and his brow appeared healed. He bowed immediately when their eyes met, and she smiled and curtsied in return. She moved toward her seat, her pulse beating loudly in her ears.

"Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, I would like you to introduce my sister, Georgiana, to you."

A slight girl of sixteen got up from the pianoforte and walked to stand next to Mr. Darcy. They had the same coloring and shape of eyes. Georgiana seemed awkward and did not look up for more than a second at a time. The Miss Bennets curtsied, as did Miss Darcy.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Darcy," Elizabeth said with great sincerity. Jane added, "Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst have nothing but kind things to say about you."

Miss Darcy blushed and looked up at her brother who nodded encouragingly. "It is a great pleasure to meet both of you. I have been looking forward to it, especially since I heard of the great service Miss Elizabeth rendered my brother."

Elizabeth immediately glanced at Mr. Darcy, while Caroline coughed to hide an obvious laugh.

"I am not certain if it was a 'great' service, Miss Darcy. I was simply taking a walk, and was able to extend the walk to Netherfield Park to fetch help," she modestly replied.

Mr. Darcy halfway smiled, and the ladies took their seats. He wanted to beg to differ. He wanted to let Elizabeth know just how much he appreciated everything she had done for him, but he could not take that liberty in this company.

For weeks Darcy was forced to hear Caroline's running commentary on Elizabeth's fine eyes, now paired with her shocking lack of propriety in walking by herself _again_, and then having the nerve to run across Darcy in his injured state. She declared it "unrefined and coarse" that Elizabeth would take it upon herself to do the work of a surgeon, and tend to his wound. Bingley asked his sister if she rather Darcy was left exposed to the elements and bled to death, but Caroline only laughed, and claimed that someone more appropriate would have found him, and _they_ would not have run off wearing his riding coat.

So Darcy remained quiet, but he watched her. He could not help himself. He owed her so much, but he knew not how to repay her. It was almost physically painful for him to see her, and not to be forthright with her.

"How do you like Hertfordshire, Miss Darcy?" Elizabeth politely questioned.

Once again, Georgiana glanced over at her brother before she answered. "I haven't seen any of it but Netherfield, Miss Elizabeth. I am quite happy to stay here with my brother."

"I am afraid that I haven't let my sister out of my sight, Miss Elizabeth. She is not one for villages and shops, and I really do enjoy listening to her play," Mr. Darcy explained.

Her heart jumped when he spoke to her, but she kept calm on the outside. "Oh, I certainly hope that we can hear you play before we leave today," Elizabeth enthused. She tried not to look at Mr. Darcy who was definitely looking at her.

"If you wish, Miss Elizabeth, but you must play and sing," Miss Darcy bravely answered. "For I understand that you can do both, and quite well."

Once again, a cough came from the couch where the contemptuous sisters lounged.

Little Georgiana's fingers expertly flew across the keys as the rest of the party kept busy. Mr. Hurst played with his cufflinks, while Louisa and Caroline whispered, and shot furtive glances at their brother and Jane, who were sitting close together in each other's confidence.

Elizabeth now found herself sitting across from Mr. Darcy. Lunch had been torturous, not because of the offending sisters, since that was expected. Nor was it because of the questionable fatty meat they were served, since young Bertram Gardiner did indeed go missing after breakfast. No, lunch was miserable because she was seated nowhere near Mr. Darcy. They could not have been placed further apart. Caroline was an efficient hostess. Elizabeth longed to talk with him, even if it was only on the subject of the weather. Was the man she saw briefly under the oak just a temporary result of the knock to his scull, or was Mr. Darcy capable of charm and compassion? Elizabeth did not know, and was even more afraid she would get no answers today. She did take solace in the fact that she sat next to Georgiana, and found her to be sweet, and eager to be friends.

She now had her opportunity, but Darcy looked grave as he watched his sister, and did not incline his head in her direction at all. Elizabeth thought this was proof that he was angry with her for her breech of contract. She could only think of how much more his anger would have been compounded when he found that his coat was left behind. Elizabeth tried several times while Georgiana played to find something to say to him, but the subjects that came to mind seemed either too trivial now, or too personal, and she was pained for it. Inside she chastised herself. _"Say something! Anything! He will think you are dull and stupid, in addition to horribly stubborn and a liar!"_

Unbeknownst to Elizabeth, Darcy struggled much in the same manner, but with much more favorable notions. He had wrestled the past few weeks to keep thoughts of her in check, since he did not have as many distractions, with his activities severely restricted. He honestly thought he would go insane if he were not able to set eyes on her and to hear her voice once again, but having her here now, so close, and looking even more beautiful then he had let his mind recall, had him completely off balance.

He wanted to speak with her, and even though he was not afraid that "merciful angel," or "rain soaked goddess" would escape his lips, he did not know how to say anything to her that would not sound distant or inane. Making things even worse, lavender and rose reached his senses, bringing back that day in the rain even more vividly. He had no such excuse as a massive head wound to blame on any unintentional utterances anymore, so he sat staring at his sister, his mouth closed tight, but his head and lungs filled with Elizabeth, who was close enough to touch.

"Miss Elizabeth," Bingley called from across the room, "If I remember correctly, you had something particular to convey to Mr. Darcy." Bingley smiled widely, as his sisters looked from their brother over to Elizabeth. They clamped their steely gazes on her.

Elizabeth was startled, but this was the exact opportunity she needed. For the first time, she thought Bingley a _very_ clever man.

"Oh, yes." She turned to face Mr. Darcy who looked at her with a somber face, but with something very different behind his eyes. She hesitated, fearing those eyes, but continued as the whole room now waited for her.

"Mr. Darcy, I feel the need to apologize for breaking my promise to warm myself at Netherfield, sir, and to assure you that I did not succumb to a cold from the weather."

Mr. Darcy could see that her eyes were cornflower blue today, like the delicate ribbon around her tiny waist. He took a breath, and his countenance melted into an easy, yet sly smile.

"I have to admit, Miss Elizabeth, that I doubted your sincerity when you so easily changed your mind." How he loved to say her name. How it lingered on his lips.

Surprised, but relieved, Elizabeth returned the smile. "You could have kept me out in the cold rain for a half hour more arguing your point, so I decided I could be home and warm at Longbourn far quicker, if I agreed with you."

"Adversus solem ne loquitor," he said with the same smile. "Speak not against the sun?"

Elizabeth looked up at him and caught a small glimmer from his deep eyes. "Exactly, sir."

"Yes, but who is the sun this time?" the gentleman posed.

_Finally!_ Elizabeth was thrilled that the ice was broken. Darcy's eyebrow was lifted, waiting for her response, and she was just about to, when Caroline interrupted.

"That was very ungenerous of you, Miss Eliza, to lie to Mr. Darcy's face like that. Quite distasteful. I have to say that I will think twice before I believe anything else you say," Caroline jabbed. She and Louisa shared a glance of victory before the former fixed her triumphant gaze back on Elizabeth.

"You look very lovely today, Miss Bingley," Elizabeth simply replied with a sweet smile, and then smoothed her dress beneath her.

Almost every occupant in the room, including Georgiana stifled a smile. And the cufflink absorbed Mr. Hurst, actually looked up at Elizabeth in surprise, and laughed out loud.

Louisa shot him a look that could have taken down an elephant, but Bingley's good port was making her husband immune to any weapon she formed against him.

Darcy, who was just about ready to defend Elizabeth, smiled the widest. He was besotted. Not only was Elizabeth mythical in his eyes, she was strong, intelligent, lovely, and was most likely, not aware of any of it.

He wished more than anything that he could close the gap between them, and promise never to leave her side again. The weeks he spent convalescing without being able to see her, had altered him. How could such a short acquaintance make such a tremendous chasm in his heart? He now nurtured a new hope, that he could see much more of her, and that she would soon end his suffering.

Louisa started to complain about how late it was getting, and both Jane and Elizabeth knew that they were in danger of overstaying their welcome--at least where the superior sisters were concerned. Bingley could not bear any talk of them leaving, but Jane encouraged him to come by Longbourn the next day, for the long walk they had talked about.

Elizabeth was crestfallen. Even though they had that one little moment in the proverbial sun, Darcy seemed distant and distracted, although she did find him looking at her frequently. How would she ever be able to truly talk with this man again without several pairs of eyes and ears fixed on them? She simply would have to lie in wait on some lonely patch of road, and suddenly push him off his horse when he was not looking. She had already scampered about the landscape, quite alone and soaked through, wearing Mr. Darcy's riding coat. This seemed like a logical follow up. Elizabeth managed a smile at the very thought.

Caroline broke Elizabeth's revelry and wished her a good day, although her face said something completely different. Caroline turned her back and quickly walked away, while Elizabeth and Jane were helped into their carriage by Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy was unable to manage the stairs without help, so he and Georgiana said their farewells inside. Elizabeth had glanced at him once more before she quit the room, and was not sure if he looked toward her or not. And now they were leaving. And that would have to be good enough.

Jane did not require any conversation on the carriage ride home, so Elizabeth was left to ponder how to quell her great disappointment, and wonder if she would ever sleep again.

Anticipating their arrival back at Longbourn, was their Aunt Gardiner, only six years Jane's senior. Mr. Gardiner was Mrs. Bennet's younger brother by eleven years. He was a very successful young businessman in London, owning a lucrative import business, and Mrs. Gardiner was his very beautiful and stylish bride. They married when she was but seventeen. All the Bennet girls considered Mrs. Gardiner as more of an older sister than an aunt, and save Mary, looked forward to their aunt's fashion reports and catalogs from London. Apparently long sleeves were coming back in style for daywear.

Not being able to help having favorite nieces, since the other three were universally regarded as silly, Mrs. Gardiner grew very close to Jane and Elizabeth. She was particularly anxious to hear about the luncheon, since she had sharp eyes and a notion that Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth were attached in some manner beyond anyone else's suspicion. She did her best to find out any bit of information, but found Lizzy uncharacteristically dull, and Jane only able to discuss Mr. Bingley and the food. She would have to wait and observe herself, which was not possible, with the fact that the Gardiners would be leaving in just three days.

Elizabeth did make a promise to call on Georgiana, and fulfilled it two days later. Fortunately, Louisa and Caroline made excuses and retired to another part of the house, but unfortunately, the gentlemen had taken the carriage to Meryton. As they found themselves alone, Elizabeth ignored her disappointment at not being able to see Mr. Darcy, and suggested a walk. Georgiana was happy to oblige since she had been no farther than the park. They donned their bonnets and Elizabeth took her down one of her favorite paths.

Although the weather was cool and crisp, the sun was high and bright, and it felt exhilarating to stir out of doors while the weather held. Every few minutes Elizabeth would take Georgiana's hand and they would run together for a small stretch, and then laugh heartily, as though they were getting away with something quite appalling. Elizabeth assured her that the exertion was more important than decorum, and besides, there was no injury to decorum, if no one was around to witness them breaking it.

The two were all over the countryside, on and off of paths, talking all the while. Georgiana turned out to be an intelligent, curious girl, and Elizabeth was making great progress in getting her to express her feelings on various topics. One of Georgiana's favorite topics was her brother, which Elizabeth did not mind spending time on. It was natural to idealize a brother who was ten years her senior, but sometimes Elizabeth felt that Georgiana held him in unrealistic god-like esteem. She painted him as too good, as too kind, and too generous for believability. Such a person could not exist, and could not be the same gentleman who may or may not be looking for faults in Elizabeth, and certainly could not be the same man that Wickham claimed he was.

Elizabeth pondered this, as they found themselves very near to where she had found Mr. Darcy just a few weeks prior. Elizabeth had not been there since. She could almost smell the rain, the wet earth and leaves, and his heavy wool coat. How she wished she could revisit it all without the injury.

At that moment, a carriage crested at the top of the hill, and came down their way. The pair moved to the grass to let it pass, but Elizabeth recognized it as belonging to Mr. Bingley. They smiled as the carriage slowed to a stop. The door swung open, and a very red faced Mr. Darcy appeared in the doorway. Elizabeth had never seen an expression like that on his face, in their entire acquaintance. It was more than annoyance and displeasure; it was almost outrage. Both Elizabeth and Georgiana stared at him, shocked.

"Georgiana! What are you doing out here? I told you never to stir away from Netherfield," he thundered.

Poor Georgiana stood, unable to move or speak for a few seconds. Elizabeth's eyes moved between the siblings trying to make sense of the moment. Finally, with tears rolling down her face, Georgiana answered. "I am sorry brother, I thought that it would be safe to be with Miss Elizabeth."

Mr. Darcy's eyes softened slightly as he saw the distress he was causing his sister. He tried to lighten the tenor of his voice, although once it came out, he could hear that it was still very stern.

"It certainly is _not_ safe. Please step into the carriage and I will take you back."

Georgiana immediately jumped into the carriage without even looking back at Elizabeth, and disappeared behind her brother's much larger frame.

Frozen, Elizabeth continued to stare wide-eyed at Darcy, as he tried to change his countenance. He was the devil himself, she thought, controlling and frightening that poor creature, who did nothing but love and worship him. Wickham was right! All of Hertfordshire was right. Mr. Darcy was not only proud and unpleasant; he was cruel and unforgiving. Elizabeth was now sure that Georgiana praised him so highly, only because she was afraid of him. _Hateful man! _She wanted nothing more than to be out of his presence.

Darcy could see the horror in Elizabeth's face, and realized how he must have come across. He did everything in his power to calm himself and to look kindly at her. _What must she think of me? _He would not be able to explain his behavior, especially in front of Georgiana, but he needed to made amends quickly.

"Miss Elizabeth, we can take to you back to Longbourn if you would like," he offered in a different, calmer voice.

Elizabeth's face thawed, but she glared back at him. "No thank you, sir. I prefer to walk."

Darcy's heart sank. Her beautiful eyes were not fire; they were ice. Cold and steely. How could he rectify this?

"It would be my great pleasure to see you home safely," he managed a smile this time. _Please Elizabeth. Please, my love… you have no idea what I am about._

And then she noticed him look past her to the oak tree where they both sought shelter from the rain. He looked back at her with almost pleading eyes, but something new burned in Elizabeth's chest. And though she could not put a name to it, it was not anything resembling what the cold shivering Elizabeth dressed in a gentleman's riding coat felt.

"As I said, Mr. Darcy, I prefer to walk. I thank you for your kindness." Elizabeth curtsied and turned on her heel, wanting to be free of his gaze. Needing to be as far away from him as she could manage.

*

Elizabeth almost burst into the parlor at Longbourn, where her aunt, mother, Mary, Jane, and her young cousin Sara were having tea.

"Lizzy!" her dear aunt exclaimed. "Is everything all right?"

Elizabeth took stock and managed to check herself. She made herself breath and tried not to look desperate.

"I am sorry." She looked around the room and stopped at her aunt. "It is just that I had the most happy thought, Aunt! I know that you originally had asked Jane to accompany you home tomorrow, but most thought it best for her to stay, to…" She glanced over at Jane who looked a bit surprised, "to see how things might turn out here."

"Yes, we know what you mean, Miss Lizzy, get on with it," her mother added impatiently.

"Well, I was hoping that I could take Jane's place and accompany you to London. I long to have a change in scenery, Aunt, and I will be a big help with all my young cousins." Sara's eyes lit up.

"Oh, Mama, could Lizzy please come with us?"

Mrs. Gardiner looked puzzled, but was not about to keep her favorite from accompanying her home. This would be the perfect opportunity to find out just what was going on in that sweet, stubborn girl's head.

"Certainly, Lizzy. We would love you to come, that is, if your mama could spare you."

"Oh, Lizzy is of no consequence to me," complained the lady. "She thinks nothing of throwing away perfectly good marriage proposals, which is the same as throwing us all out in the cold upon her father's death. It is a good thing that Jane takes her duties more seriously." Mrs. Bennet scowled at Elizabeth. "Mr. Bingley visits almost every day," and then she turned to Jane, who had ducked her head in embarrassment. "I knew you could not be so beautiful for nothing, my dear!"

Elizabeth finished packing and sat down to write a note to Georgiana.

_Dearest Georgiana,_

_I am celebrating, because I have been invited to accompany my aunt and uncle back to London, and help out with my four young cousins—that is, if all can be found. _

_There are assurances of balls, new bonnets, and my favorite thing of all, an extensive library to lose myself in during my stay. My only regret is that I will not be able to continue our acquaintance while you stay at Netherfield Park. _

_I find you a very intelligent, amiable and talented young woman. This is the highest compliment, as I have been told by some very esteemed people, that I am quite severe upon our sex._

_It has been a pleasure to call you my friend. If you find that you need a friend, at any time, anywhere, please know you can rely on me._

_God bless you, dear Georgiana._

_Yours truly,_

_Elizabeth Bennet_

Jane entered the room as Elizabeth was folding the letter.

"Lizzy, what will I do without you?"

Elizabeth looked over at her. "You sound like Father. But I know I will hardly be missed by _you,_ at least." She put the letter down and grabbed Jane's hands.

"Dearest Jane, I know he will propose while I am gone, and I am very sorry to miss it, but I must get away from here."

"Won't you tell me what happened?" Jane asked sweetly.

"Nothing happened, and nothing will ever happen, Jane." Jane looked like she wanted to say something, but Elizabeth continued. "Whether or not he was admiring me or finding fault, Jane, I do not think I like the man at all."

Lydia burst into the room, without so much as a knock. "Wickham and Denny are here! They wanted to make sure to see you before you left, Lizzie! What luck to be singled out like that! Hurry, for they only have a quarter of an hour." Lydia was gone as fast as she entered.

Elizabeth and Wickham walked together in the garden while Lydia and Kitty entertained Denny.

"I am sorry I haven't been visiting as much of late," he offered.

"I understand that there is a good reason," she quipped, and Wickham was not sure if she was teasing or accusing.

"Colonel Forster relies on me for many things these days," was his excuse.

She looked over at him wondering if any of the rumors were true about him. For there were more whispers than just fortune hunting. There were supposed unpaid debts and gambling, but Elizabeth knew how much the good people of Meryton loved a good story. She remembered thinking that his looks added to his believability at one time, not long ago, but was not sure if she trusted herself at all where handsome young men were concerned anymore.

"I understand that you have met Miss Darcy," he added cautiously.

"Yes, she is staying at Netherfield Park, and I have had the great pleasure of getting to know her."

The gentleman looked uncomfortable. "Did you find her proud?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Not at all. In fact, I found her quite shy, but perfectly amiable."

"Oh." Wickham ducked his head. "She must have improved in the past few years."

Wickham quickly changed the subject, and they talked of London and other matters that did not have to do with the name Darcy. Elizabeth felt relieved as he took his leave. Yes, he was handsome. Yes, he was charming, but there was something amiss. It was certainly time to get away from Hertfordshire, and all handsome young men she associated with it.

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	2. Chapter 5

Here is a shout out, and an apology all rolled into one for all my new friends from France. I did my best to write a French accent for a very favorite character of mine. She's wonderful and ridiculous all in one—aren't we all? I hope that you love her as much as I do. Enjoy Chapter Five.

CHAPTER FIVE

He did not care that he could not stir from the carriage, Darcy only wanted a change in scenery. Any change. If two bushes near the terrace, would have switched places in the middle of the night, he would have spent the day gawking. Netherfield was becoming insufferable to him--his own personal prison. Only the promise of Elizabeth calling on Georgiana, gave that great house any measure of appeal to him at this point. Yet, she did not come yesterday, and it seemed she might not come today. It was getting late for calls, and Darcy was getting anxious.

"Darcy, my new rifle has arrived," Bingley exclaimed, as he read the note from the gunsmith. He looked up at his friend. "I am to head off to Meryton, directly, to get it. Are you up for a bumpy carriage ride?"

It surprised Darcy how much a strange tree, and unfamiliar hill could lift his spirits. It reminded him of his tour on horseback, before his fall. Though he had to smile at his appreciation now. His hunger for any scenery was so voracious, that he was near to saying it was the most beautiful terrain he has ever beheld. But he held his tongue, and continued to appreciate the view. They were in Meryton in no time.

Bingley and Mr. Hurst jumped out to visit the gunsmith, and Darcy sat back in the carriage, to take in the sounds and smells of the little shire. How wonderful it was to stir out of doors.

Voices, carriages and horses came and went. It was pleasant to hear the bustle of a little town, after such dead quiet the past month. Even a infant's distant cry, which would have annoyed him previously, sounded surprisingly pleasant, as he pictured its mother calming him, and cooing in his ear.

Minutes ticked by, and Darcy settled in. He did not pay much attention to any one voice in particular, that was until a very familiar voice caught his ear.

"I do not care what the Colonel says."

"You will care, when he uses you to set an example for the rest of us, Wickham."

"Hang the Colonel! I am sick of this damn place, and I am sick of cards for the moment. And there are not pretty enough ladies out here, who will entreat me to stay. Let us go find some. The countryside is full of pretty little maidens. Maybe we will happen upon a milkmaid with her cans overflowing."

Coarse laughter was heard from at least two others.

"Of course, we could call on the Miss Bennets. There are always two or three that are eager to welcome us," enthused Wickham.

"Miss Lydia is the most obliging," added another, his voice thick with implication.

More laughter.

"Yes, God bless the young ones, who know no better," said the villain.

"Aye, I will drink to that."

The conversation made Darcy's pulse quicken, and his face grew hot. _"God bless the young ones, indeed!"_ He thought about showing his face at that moment, and possibly making use of his cane, but the voices suddenly moved on. The door to the carriage opened, producing Bingley, Mr. Hurst, and a shiny new hunting rifle.

Wickham managed to spoil the entire ride back for Darcy. He could not enjoy the landscape. The hills, the trees, and the clouds went by, but his thoughts were of Georgiana, and how only Providence kept her from eloping with that venomous snake. Yet he was still out there, coiled and ready to strike.

Once back at Netherfield Park, the gentlemen were informed that Miss Darcy and Miss Bennet went on a walk.

Without hesitation, Darcy jumped back into the carriage to find them. And everything went wrong from there. Very wrong.

And now, Elizabeth was miles away, and all he could see was her horrified face.

London was diverting, just as Elizabeth had hoped. The Gardiner's had a lovely and stylish home on Gracechurch Street, outfitted expensively, but tastefully. Even though her uncle was in trade, the fortune he had amassed put him in the good graces of many among the ton. In turn, he and the beautiful Mrs. Gardiner were welcomed into some very exclusive circles.

Mrs. Gardiner encouraged Elizabeth to accompany her on her many calls, to introduce Elizabeth to those who mattered. Her aunt was wise, and knew this was the only way Elizabeth would be invited to the foremost balls. Elizabeth was, after all, a gentleman's daughter. Her aunt also insisted on having new clothes made for her during her stay. And Elizabeth would have the very best, Mrs. Gardiner avowed.

At the dressmakers, Elizabeth had choices of many sumptuous fabrics. Her aunt would not let her stray from the silks and satins for the ball and evening gowns. Three new dresses were to be made for her in the very latest fashion.

Mademoiselle Adele, with her thick French accent, grabbed some deep emerald green silk that Elizabeth was admiring, and wrapped it around her, and swept her toward a mirror.

"Oui! Zees is you," she declared. "Zee gown I make from zees, will be mageecal."

The tremendously large and buxom lady, with unnaturally bright ginger hair, piled very high on her head, leaned over and looked directly into Elizabeth's eyes. Besides her vast cleavage, which was eye level with Elizabeth, the lady's face was powdered, her lips rouged, and she had three beauty spots placed strategically on her face. The largest one was barely clinging by a long hair above her lip, and it bounced with every word Mademoiselle Adele uttered.

Elizabeth could not but help glance over at her aunt, who suppressed a smile. Eight-year-old Sara was allowed to join them, having begged Elizabeth in private that morning. She stood next to her mama, with her eyes wide open, gaping at Mademoiselle--not helping Lizzy maintain control one bit.

The lady continued. "You will call your beloved to you, when you wear zees." She brought the silk up to Elizabeth's eyes, and she lowered her voice.

"For he will be drawn to you, and will find you, no matter where you go," she stated reverently and resolutely, as if it were written in stone. As if she read it from the Old Testament, closed the holy book, and a boys' choir sang "amen" to seal it.

Elizabeth did not know what to say to this, so she simply nodded, and thought about the letter that she must write to her father.

"I am nev-air wrong about zees," Mademoiselle added with a wink.

Mademoiselle Adele then grinned, and all her yellowing teeth gleamed. Her bosoms heaved. The beauty spot nodded in turn, and Elizabeth knew not where to rest her eyes. She could see her aunt from the corner of her eye, turn and cover her mouth, while Sara still gaped. And Elizabeth wished for the first time, that her inclination bent toward drawing, because words alone would not do Mademoiselle justice.

The days went by, and Elizabeth did her duties. She let her aunt dress her with graciousness, and made conversation with perfectly coiffed and overly jeweled strangers. But she was never quite content, until she was alone with a book, or a letter from Jane in her room. And she tried not to think of _him_, and poor Georgiana's tears, and how unsettled her own heart was. She tried. Oh, how she tried.

Elizabeth looked at herself in the mirror, as Trina finished with her hair. It was as if she was facing a stranger, who resembled herself, but was much more refined.

"Do you like it, Miss Bennet?" Trina asked confidently, reading her face. "You look very beautiful."

"Yes, Trina. But I hardly recognize myself," she admitted.

"I can make a sketch, Miss, if you would like, to show your maid at home how to sweep your hair over like this," Trina offered.

Elizabeth smiled at the thought of Betsy trying to recreate the intricate curls, and could only think of how much hair she would actually lose in the process—either pulled out with a comb, or burned off with the curling iron. "Oh, that will not be necessary, Trina. Thank you, though."

Trina smiled. "I will be right back with your gown." She curtsied, and left Elizabeth alone with the exquisite creature looking back at her. Elizabeth was not one to fuss about her looks, but for once, she could see how the skilled hands of a good maid could make such a difference.

In a matter of a minute, Trina was back with Elizabeth's new ball gown. It was deep burgundy silk, cut lower than she was comfortable with—all Mademoiselle Adele's gowns were cut too low for Elizabeth's liking—but was promised ample lace.

Elizabeth stepped into it, while Trina pulled it up and tucked, pinned and sewed her in. The color of the gown complimented Elizabeth's fair complexion and deep chestnut hair, and Elizabeth could not help but to be pleased with such an elegant dress, and as always, wondered how Jane would look in it.

"The gentlemen will be looking at only you tonight, Miss," Trina said as she pulled tight. Elizabeth's lungs emptied, but other parts of her almost spilled out.

"Trina! This is too much!" Elizabeth was almost panicked.

"Do not worry, Miss, that is what the lace is for," she explained. But Elizabeth could only see her overexposure, and blushed.

Trina finished with all the ties and fastens, and then brought the lace over, which calmed Elizabeth down, once it was in place. She wished that Jane could see her, for Jane would laugh with her, and put her at ease. She would know no one at the ball, besides a few married women whom she met calling with her aunt, yet she was determined to be diverted.

Introductions were made, and Elizabeth was immediately asked to dance by the grandson of a Mrs. Boyle, whom Elizabeth had met two days prior. Mrs. Boyle had taken her hand and declared her a dear, pretty thing, and then lamented, more than once, that Elizabeth was worth only one thousand pounds after her mother's death, and then seemed disappointed that Mrs. Bennet would most likely live a very long time.

Mrs. Boyle recovered from her disappointment, and promised Mrs. Gardiner that she would procure Elizabeth dancing partners, and she was true to her word. Elizabeth had a suspicion that Mrs. Boyle, while busy finding partners for her, was also liberal with the unfortunate news of her measly inheritance, and the healthy state of both her parents.

Her first partner was a good dancer, though not very handsome. He was kind, clearly admiring, and offered her punch after their set, and talked of London, and what she had seen and done during her visit. Elizabeth's second partner was quite tall, and tolerably handsome she thought. He was not as talkative, which was fine with Elizabeth, since it gave her the opportunity to look at the other couples while they were dancing, but he did look at her lace more than she was comfortable with. There were many pretty and elegant young women there, but thanks to Trina, and Mademoiselle Adele, Elizabeth did not feel that she did not belong.

Elizabeth sat next to her aunt before the third set was to start. Mrs. Boyle bustled over with a handsome gentleman, with sparkling dark eyes and a ready smile.

"Miss Bennet, this is Colonel Fitzwilliam," the lady pronounced.

The gentleman's smile widened, and he bowed. "It would do me a great honor if you would dance with me, Miss Bennet. If you are not otherwise engaged."

Happy with the partner presented before her, Elizabeth smiled. "No sir, I am not engaged." She thought that his eyes reminded her of someone, but she could not place it.

Colonel Fitzwilliam put out his gloved hand and Elizabeth took it. They made their way to the dance floor and found a place among the couples. The Colonel's smile did not falter, and the music started.

"Is it impertinent of me to say how relieved I was to see you, after I promised Mrs. Boyle blindly that I would dance with her pretty little friend?" Elizabeth looked over at him as they danced. "For I am afraid she is far too lenient with the word 'pretty,' and I was preparing for the worse," he continued.

Elizabeth only smiled as she circled behind him, and then took his hand once more before he spoke again. "As much as I am relieved, I have to say that I was also surprised, for I saw you earlier, and did not think that the prettiest lady at this ball would have a free dance."

Elizabeth did not meet his eyes, but smiled slightly, and continued with the dance.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, do you jot these things down ahead of time, or do they come upon you at will?"

The Colonel laughed out loud. "You accuse me of being insincere, Miss Bennet?"

"I accuse you of nothing. I only ask if your sincerity is studied or spontaneous," the lady said teasingly. "I've recently become a student of compliments aimed at young ladies."

"Indeed? Well, let me assure you that no other ladies have been the object of my sincerity this evening… studied or spontaneous." This time, he circled behind her.

"And may I add, from our brief conversation, I can assure you that my sincerity will stay with you for the duration of the night." He then found her face. "You may study that, Miss Bennet."

_Touché! _He took her hand once again, and she smiled fully. This was exactly what she was looking for, but had not dared to hope—a handsome and agreeable partner who could keep up with her. They continued to dance, and since it was the dinner set, the dashing young Colonel was her escort to dinner. And just as Elizabeth had wished, she was excessively diverted.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam paid you a great compliment by asking you to dance twice, Lizzy," her aunt commented on the carriage ride home. "And you two talked quite a deal at dinner. I understand he comes from a great family, although he is not the eldest."

Elizabeth smiled. "Colonel Fitzwilliam, eldest or not, was very kind to ask me for a second set, Aunt, but I am certain it was only to prove a point."

"I do not understand, Lizzy."

"Colonel Fitzwilliam told me that I was the prettiest lady at the ball, and I challenged his sincerity."

Her aunt smiled knowingly. "Lizzy, you are far too clever for your own good. You should not be daring young men to prove themselves to you. The way you looked tonight, there could have been duels breaking out all over."

Elizabeth laughed without reserve. The thought of anyone dueling over her was most absurd. "Aunt! You know me better than that. Please do not accuse me of such things."

"Ah, but it was nice to see you smiling and enjoying yourself, my dear. I have been more than concerned for you. You have not been yourself for weeks now, and it has pained me to see it," her aunt noted.

"I thank you for taking me to London with you, Aunt. I think I shall be myself soon."

More time passed, as Elizabeth settled into a pleasant routine with the Gardiners. She was allowed to read more, and spent less time going on calls with her aunt, now that she was generally known. She even found her way to their pianoforte in the drawing room, and was surprised how she enjoyed playing—much more than at Longbourn. At least here, she could not get on her mother's last nerve, or have Mary constantly hovering, and telling her how very wrong most of it was. She was left to choose music that suited her, and could take as much time as she needed to work through a passage, without fear of any sort of interruption—including visiting red coats.

And then, the letter that she was expecting—with news that everyone was anticipating—finally came. Jane was engaged to Mr. Bingley!

Elizabeth pictured the happy event in full. How Jane would have blushed, making her look even more radiant, and how joyful tears must have flowed. How handsome and noble Mr. Bingley must have looked, with his two sisters clinging, each to one leg. And how he must have dragged them several feet across the floor, to take Jane's hand, and place a gentle kiss upon it.

Her aunt, and young Sara joined her in her joy, and all three scrupulously planned out their honeymoon, where they should settle permanently, and just how many children they should have--although Sara was adamant they should have kittens instead.

Elizabeth was able to write a very loving and felicitous letter to her dearest sister. She was sorry that she was not there, but not wholeheartedly. A very small part of her ached for some unknown reason, but she tucked the ache away, and let her other feelings overflow into the replying letter.

Yet another ball was upon Elizabeth, and she gave herself over to Trina, freely this time, who squeezed, pinned and tucked her into another new gown. Elizabeth had written to Jane in detail about this gown, for she knew Jane, who had a finer figure, would look like an angel sent straight from heaven in it. She had never seen a prettier pale blue, and there were seed pearls sewn onto the hem of her sleeves, and embroidered on her bodice in groups of five, to resemble tiny white flowers. Around the pearls, gold thread was used to fashion delicate leaves that trailed and connected the pearl flowers.

"I think that I like this one the best, Miss. So elegant, so delicate—just like you. And look at your eyes! I did not know they were so blue," Trina enthused, as Elizabeth looked at herself in a full-length mirror.

"My sister Jane would look far better in this," Elizabeth observed, but secretly liked what she saw. Trina ignored her, while she helped her into her slippers.

"You are not being fair to the other ladies tonight, for they will despise you as soon as you walk in, Miss Bennet. I would accept no punch from anyone but a gentleman. A lady might spit in it." Elizabeth looked down surprised and amused at Trina. "Trust me," Trina added as she stood up.

Elizabeth smiled as she thought of the amusing letter that she would be able to write Jane, even without the ball. London was turning out to be exactly what she had hoped. Elizabeth smiled, because she had barely thought about him today. Trina fussed with a loose curl on Elizabeth's head, until she found its proper home.

"I do not say this to every woman I dress, Miss. One cannot put a gown on a camel, and expect it not to be a camel any more." Elizabeth laughed as Trina smoothed out her gown and looked her over to see if anything else should be done.

Mrs. Gardiner came in at that moment and stopped to admire her lovely young niece.

"Oh, Lizzy! You are simply a vision! I cannot even imagine how many hearts will be broken tonight over you."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Please do not say such things, Aunt."

"And why should I not?" her aunt challenged.

Elizabeth looked from her aunt to Trina who was in full agreement, and then back at her aunt. "With Mrs. Boyle making my inheritance everyone's business, there will certainly be no hearts set on me, and thus none to be broken."

"My dear, your lack of fortune will only scare off the _not _very rich. A very rich man does not have to worry about such a thing. Believe me, you will break hearts tonight, and that can be done by just glancing at you, my sweet girl."

"I told Miss Bennet so. She is no camel," Trina added with fervor.

Colonel Fitzwilliam lost no time in finding Elizabeth the moment he entered the ballroom. Elizabeth had despaired when she had to accept the hand of a Mr. Turner, with more teeth than she thought could fit into one mouth, for the first set. But her hope was restored when she spied the Colonel heading toward her. He had such open and happy manners. She was almost certain that there was not a thought in his head that did not pass on his face, and she liked him very much because of it.

When he reached her, he could not hide how stirred he was by her appearance. He smiled, but not the knowing and teasing smile she became used to at the previous ball. This smile was reverent, almost cautious. She looked up at him curiously, and he bowed.

"Miss Bennet, I have been in your presence for only a few seconds, yet you have claimed all my sincerity once more. You look positively stunning… Please, may I claim the next two dances?"

"Certainly, Colonel Fitzwilliam, but I do not desire your sincerity this evening."

The Colonel looked quizzically at her.

"I desire entertainment. Please fill my head with tales of your travels, for I have decided that I am quite dull and ignorant, after spending time in my uncle's expansive library. If I cannot see the rest of the world, I must at least hear of it from someone who has."

The Colonel smiled graciously. "Miss Bennet, first of all, you do yourself a great disservice, by claiming yourself dull and ignorant—I find you quite the opposite. Quite. And secondly, I am very much capable of entertaining you with stories of my travels, with my sincerity still intact."

Elizabeth smiled. "I am happy to hear that."

The Colonel's teasing smile reappeared. "My mission tonight, will be to sincerely entertain you, Milady."

Mr. Turner, and his fifty-seven teeth, were quite forgot, and the Colonel was forgiven for being late. Elizabeth smiled at the attractive man beaming before her, and she secretly hoped that he would, once again, ask her for more than one set.

"Good evening, Miss Bennet," said a low, baritone voice.

A shock wave went through Elizabeth. She knew that voice, but it was out of place. It belonged miles and miles away. That voice belonged under an oak tree, off of a path. It made her heart pound and her face flush.

_What was he doing here?_ She was finally distracted enough in London _not_ to be thinking about him every hour, and now he appears out of nowhere, to continue his slow, cruel torture.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, and forced herself to turn slightly to face Mr. Darcy, who came to stand next to Colonel Fitzwilliam. She met his eyes. They were pained, and it sent her a little off balance. She knew she hated the man, but she did not feel it as fully as she thought.

"Mr. Darcy. I did not expect to see you, sir." She kept her countenance, and then looked down at his leg. "You are recovered?"

"Yes. I am recovered." He tried desperately not to look awkward. "And because I am recovered, Georgiana and I decided to come to London. We have a home here." Darcy looked over at Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was smiling widely at Elizabeth.

"I see that you have already made my cousin's acquaintance, Miss Bennet," Darcy remarked.

Surprised, Elizabeth looked back and forth at both of them. She then remembered whose eyes the Colonel's resembled. _They were cousins! _ But beyond the eyes, there was nothing remotely similar about them. The Colonel was fair and good-natured, and Darcy was dark and brooding. Well, he was usually brooding. Right now he seemed many things, but definitely not brooding. He smiled at her. Elizabeth thought she could see merriment, but his eyes suggested sadness.

"I had no idea," Elizabeth confessed. She was off centered by Darcy's arrival, and now even more so, because of the intimate connection between Darcy and the handsome Colonel, whose attentions she had very much enjoyed. She was hoping to spend as much time as would be considered appropriate, dancing and conversing with him. It had been a very long time since she had met someone with that much wit and liveliness, and now it was all ruined. For how could she be comfortable getting to know Colonel Fitzwilliam, if his severe cousin was nearby, watching, judging and disapproving?

"Nor was I aware that you were acquainted with Darcy, Miss Bennet, or we should have talked about him behind his back," Colonel Fitzwilliam joked. "It was only this afternoon when I mentioned that I would be seeking you out as my first dance partner, did the connection come to our attention."

She looked back at Darcy. He smiled, and took a step closer to her.

"Miss Bennet, if I may be so forward--may I claim the set after?" he asked in all sincerity.

Elizabeth was astounded. It was like the Netherfield ball all over again, except this was worse! Weeks of hard work, books, shopping, new acquaintances, all designed to keep her from thinking about him and his cruelty, were unraveling rapidly as she stood before him. He looked down into her eyes, and tried to pull things out of them—she was sure of it! And she tried desperately to hold on to them, and keep them from him.

She wanted to refuse him. She wanted to run from the room and never look back. But she said yes. In an instant. She could not help herself. _Stupid girl!_ Would she turn into a pillar of salt because of her weakness? Would she slowly be washed away into nothingness, because her strength failed her?

The next set started, and Elizabeth found herself standing up with the Colonel.

"So, Miss Bennet, in keeping with my word on the subject of talking about Darcy behind his back--how did my cousin behave in Hertfordshire?" He looked at her with teasing eyes, and even though she wanted to tease back, she knew that anything said, would be related to his cousin, so she answered cautiously.

"Mr. Darcy was a perfect gentleman in Hertfordshire, Colonel Fitzwilliam," she answered calmly.

"I do not doubt that he was a gentleman, Miss Bennet. But how did he act among people? Did he even speak a word?" Elizabeth looked up at him puzzled at his question, and the Colonel saw that he needed to elaborate.

"Darcy is rather quiet in places where he is not familiar. He has been like that since he was a boy, but he is lively enough in other places—among people that he knows. I was simply curious to see how he would act among country gentry."

Elizabeth could not help but wonder. It had never occurred to her that Mr. Darcy's aloof behavior could simply be shyness. _How very odd._ Could a rich, handsome, and powerful man, such as Mr. Darcy, be unconfident? Wanting to hear more, Elizabeth joined the game.

"Mr. Darcy was rather quiet, and did keep to himself. The very first time I saw your cousin, was at an assembly, where he only danced only two sets, and then with only the women in his party. Many other young ladies were in need of a partner, but I overheard him saying that it would be insupportable to stand up with any of them."

Fitzwilliam laughed, and then feigned shock. "And were you in need of a partner that evening, Miss Bennet?"

The lady smiled slightly, before she looked down.

"It seems very clear, that it is _not_ insupportable for him to stand up with you tonight," he teased.

"I fear it is strictly out of duty, Colonel. I am not certain if it is a written law, but if a lady runs across a gentleman broken and bleeding by the side of the road, and offers assistance, the gentleman might feel he owes the lady one dance, if he happens upon her at a ball… even if the thought was previously insupportable."

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked shocked. "You ran across Darcy after his riding accident? He said nothing of it, that coxcomb!"

Elizabeth immediately wished she could take back her previous statement. Her face got hot, and her mind raced to see how she could rectify her words.

"I am very sorry for relating that, Colonel Fitzwilliam. It was common knowledge among our acquaintances, but I did not mean to say anything that would make your cousin uncomfortable among his friends here."

Fitzwilliam smiled knowingly. "Miss Bennet, do not distress yourself. I only had a brief letter from Darcy, stating that he was thrown from his horse, and broke his ankle. He was not hiding any information, and he and Miss Georgiana have only just arrived this morning in London."

He looked at her flushed face. "Really, Miss Bennet, there is no shame in having an angel rescue you. I can only say, that I wish it was I who lay broken and bleeding. I would have shouted it from the rooftop… if I was able to get myself up there." He winked at Elizabeth. "Darcy has all the luck."

The Colonel was successful at lightening the mood, although he wondered why Elizabeth blushed, and just why Darcy had failed to mention that this bewitching little creature had helped him in his hour of need. For the Colonel himself had spent quite a few minutes that very afternoon talking about the "beautiful and witty Miss Bennet" that he was fortunate enough to dance with at the last ball he attended. Darcy inquired if it was the same Miss Bennet of his acquaintance, but said nothing further. He did, however, decide that he would attend the very ball that sounded so tedious to him, just a half hour earlier.

The third set was upon them, and Darcy silently escorted Elizabeth to the floor. This was the closest she had been to him since the day of his accident, and she tried to put that out of her head. He looked at her the entire time they walked across the room, though she looked straight ahead. Heads were turned, and Elizabeth could only imagine it was to see the tall and handsome man, with the penetrating dark eyes. She also knew that he was probably a curiosity, and a target for many single young ladies and their mothers, who were finally able to put the name "Darcy" with his form.

Still nothing was said, and the dance started. Darcy was a good dancer, and that did not free Elizabeth's mind to think of conversation. Even though he was bent on silence, she was not going to spend the next fifteen minutes warring with her thoughts, and trying to decipher his.

"Mr. Darcy, I must apologize, and tell you that Colonel Fitzwilliam now knows that I assisted you the day of your fall."

Darcy smiled down at her. "I see that Fitzwilliam was true to his word about talking behind my back," he quipped lightly.

Elizabeth was a little stunned by his cheerful manner. "I did not mean to tell him something that you had no intention"—

Darcy interrupted her. "Please Miss Bennet, I do not mind his knowing. I was quite joking when I told you I would buy your silence on the issue. Colonel Fitzwilliam has had his share of falls, I assure you, but even the charming Colonel cannot claim to have had such a lovely savior. I, you see, have the upper hand."

Elizabeth could not help but stare at him in amazement, and Darcy was well aware of it.

"Miss Bennet, are you shocked at hearing a compliment coming from me?"

He was all light and easy, and Elizabeth was wondering if she was indeed dancing with Colonel Fitzwilliam, in a Darcy mask. She gathered herself.

"In all honesty, Mr. Darcy, I do not think I have ever heard you compliment anyone, except your own dear sister."

He continued to smile, and now had her hand, as it was part of the dance. He could stand it no longer. He had waited weeks for this very moment. Her eyes were light blue tonight, and he wondered how many other shades he had missed being apart from her.

"Forgive me, for not saying what is on my mind more often." He looked her full in the face, "May I also say, Miss Bennet, that you simply took my breath away the moment I walked into the room? And I am still waiting for the moment when I shall regain it."

Elizabeth continued to stare, not being able to figure out what he was about. "Do you tease me, Mr. Darcy?" she asked incredulously.

Still holding her hand, still dancing, and still smiling, Darcy answered. "Do you think me so cruel as to give a compliment to a lady, and then take it back?"

"I am not certain, Mr. Darcy," she admitted.

"Are you still trying to sketch my character, Miss Bennet?"

"Very much so."

"Then as before, I will not suspend any pleasure of yours," he teased this time. Elizabeth remembered the last time she heard those words from him. How very different it was coming out of a smiling, charming man. But he was right. She was nowhere near finished sketching his character. This man she was dancing with was the most confusing, frustrating, maddening and fascinating man she had ever met.

The set ended, and while he escorted Elizabeth back to where her aunt was waiting, he slowed and hesitated. "Miss Bennet, may Georgiana and I call on you tomorrow?"

Elizabeth smiled at Georgiana's name. "Certainly, Mr. Darcy. I would love to see Miss Darcy again. Is she well?"

For the first time since they started dancing, Darcy's smile slipped. "She is well, Miss Bennet, but I feel the need to explain something to you about my behavior the last time you saw me." Pain washed over his face, and he looked pleadingly in her eyes, as he did when she refused his carriage that day.

The look caught her by surprise, and made her feel like comforting him. She was thinking of something to say to him, when Colonel Fitzwilliam walked up to them.

"Darcy, it is unkind to keep the lady standing after all this time. Miss Bennet must be exhausted." He handed her a small glass of punch. Elizabeth let go of Darcy's arm and took the cup.

Part of her was relieved to be free of him, but another part, a much larger part wished everyone else would melt away and they could speak openly without reserve. Once again, those questions that kept her from sleep, found their way back to the forefront of her mind. She was sure she would never have a restful night again, and it was all his fault.

With a book from her uncle's vast library open on her lap, Elizabeth was more than distracted, and could not recite the title, nor its content if her life depended on it. For _he_ would show at any moment, and she was right—she did not sleep a wink. Even the overly complimentary Trina noticed her tired face this morning, before she made her splash it with rose water.

How could Elizabeth sketch his character, when he yells at his sweet sister for taking a walk in the country, and then comes to London and declares, out of the blue, that she has taken his breath away? What was this man all about? How could he be so cruel to Mr. Wickham, yet have such a devoted friend as Bingley? She was certain that Bingley was not impressed by Darcy's fortune, but what could possess him to keep Darcy so close, if he was such an unpleasant fellow?

She also pondered Colonel Fitzwilliam's claims that Darcy was shy and uncomfortable around strangers. Does that explain away his severity? Does it pardon his rudeness? Nothing made sense. Elizabeth's own feelings did not make sense. She was afraid of him. She was unwillingly drawn to him. He offended her, yet he mesmerized her. She was completely and utterly confused by him.

Elizabeth glanced around the elegant and sunny parlor where her aunt, uncle and Sara, were busying themselves while they waited for their illustrious callers. It was unusual for Mr. Gardiner to wait for a caller, but her aunt must have talked with him privately, for he kissed Lizzy on her hand, and told her she looked lovely before he sat with his paper. Elizabeth blushed and shot a look over to her aunt, who smiled and pretended that nothing was out of the ordinary.

A carriage was heard, and Sara ran to peek out the window. She giggled a little, while the rest of the room went on as if nothing was heard. Elizabeth tried to turn her attention to the fact that Georgiana would be there, and how happy she would be to see her, after so many weeks. This exercise seemed to work, since Elizabeth was perfectly collected when the _three_ callers entered. Colonel Fitzwilliam had decided to join them.

Introductions were made. Georgiana was so visibly pleased to see Elizabeth, that Elizabeth felt it not improper to take her hand in earnest, and pull her to sit next to her on the couch with Sara. Mrs. Gardiner did a lovely job welcoming everyone warmly, and making sure they were comfortable. Elizabeth was struck by the fact that even though her aunt was so young, most likely very close to Mr. Darcy's age, she handled her domestic duties with grace, elegance and ease. Elizabeth was secretly pleased to have family that she was actually proud of, and her nerves eased, as her heart swelled.

Tea was ordered, and general pleasantries were exchanged about the Gardiner's lovely home, the weather, and last night's ball. Soon, the gentlemen fell into easy conversation with Mr. Gardiner about his business, the war, and trout fishing. Elizabeth helped Georgiana into conversation with her aunt and young Sara. Sara, being but eight, and freshly aware of everything that she would some day step into, asked Georgiana if she was "out." Even though Georgiana initially blushed, an entire conversation on the merits of coming out, dancing lessons, and what she should wear to her first ball filled the next half hour.

The separate conversations soon melded, and then broke off in different directions. Mrs. Gardiner spoke of her growing up not five miles from the Darcy estate in Derbyshire, and Mr. Darcy happily conversed with her on favorite haunts and old families in the area. Elizabeth soon found herself talking with a very enthusiastic Colonel Fitzwilliam on the subject of poetry versus prose. Even though Mr. Darcy was speaking to her aunt, she was certain that she saw him turn his head slightly, when she spoke her opinion on this and that.

Finally, Darcy spoke to Elizabeth. He warmly congratulated her on the recent engagement of her sister, and they were able to talk about the couple, the upcoming wedding, and where they would travel for their honeymoon. When Elizabeth cordially asked after the health of Bingley's sisters, she noticed a faint smile on Mr. Darcy's face, as he answered that they were both indeed in good health, as well as Mr. Hurst.

"You will soon have two more sisters, Miss Elizabeth. How very fortunate for you," he teased.

Elizabeth could not help but to smile and shake her head.

"No, Mr. Darcy, _Jane_ will have two new sisters. I already have more than I could possibly handle," she joked, and he smiled.

"Will you be sorry to have lost such a friend to matrimony?" she asked in all sincerity.

Darcy sobered. "No, not at all. How could I be sorry to have a friend so happy in his choice of a wife?"

He glanced over at Fitzwilliam, and then back at Elizabeth with a glint in his eye. "The man is so happy, that it is rather difficult to be around him. I willed my leg to heal quickly, just so I could escape his raptures."

He then mimicked Bingley_. "The sun has never shone brighter, the stars never twinkled as much, an angel has never looked as heavenly…" _ Darcy shook his head, and the room filled with laughter.

"Ah, yes," Mr. Gardiner added. "The sun shines in this very parlor, because of my lovely Margaret."

Mrs. Gardiner reddened, but smiled at her handsome husband, who blew her a kiss.

Colonel Fitzwilliam called out, "Bravo!" and started to clap, and was joined by Mr. Darcy who was smiling genuinely, much to Elizabeth's surprise.

Elizabeth thought that she could not remember when she had so enjoyed callers that she did not consider her intimates, before. Everyone was at ease, conversations flowing without awkwardness, and Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana seemed to truly enjoy the company of her family. How could that be?

She knew Darcy was very aware that, even though he was in a beautiful home, with its elegant owners, it was all begot from trade. But Elizabeth did not see one trace of distaste come from that gentleman. He was laughing, smiling and talking more than she had ever observed. He was an enigma, and she knew not what to think.

All too soon the callers had to leave. Elizabeth was sorry to see them go, but promised to call on Georgiana, and an invitation to a dinner party at the Gardiner's was extended for Friday night, and accepted.

Later that evening, as Elizabeth came down from her room, she passed her uncle's study and overheard her aunt speaking through the closed door.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam is clearly admiring, but he cannot be serious. He will have to marry rich, for he has nothing but the Fitzwilliam name. His brother gets the estate, the title—everything. Now Darcy is a different story altogether. He can marry anyone he chooses, and he has no immediate family to please, besides his sister, who clearly adores Lizzy. He might have been reserved here this morning, concerning her, but you should have seen the way he looked at her last night, dearest. He looked at no one but Elizabeth all night. And his only dance was with her. He used the excuse that he was recovering from an injured ankle, but he looked quite sprightly when he was out on the floor with Lizzy. I am certain he offended the whole of London society, but I do not think he cares, husband. Can you imagine? Pemberly!"

"Now, Margaret, do not get ahead of yourself. Let us just watch and see. I am Elizabeth's protector while she is with us, and I will not stand for anyone who toys with her affections, just because she is a pretty diversion. We will have plenty of opportunities to observe these gentlemen, my dear. Be patient, and put all your energy toward our dinner party on Friday."

Elizabeth quickly hurried to the library to avoid being discovered. She closed the heavy door, and leaned against it. She could not believe what she was hearing. They had no idea what was in Mr. Darcy's head. They were so very mistaken, that it was laughable! Why must everyone whisper "marriage" when a gentleman pays attention to a lady? Elizabeth wished she could laugh, but she could not. Why could she not laugh?

The mere speculation greatly annoyed Elizabeth. She was not upset with her aunt and uncle. She knew they were doing their duty to look out for her, and for that, she was grateful. It was just the idea of other people's looks, and whispers. She had been looking forward to the dinner on Friday, and now she only felt that she would be starring in a spectacle the entire evening. Would everyone be watching her every step? Would she be pitied if she talked with Colonel Fitzwilliam, because he could never choose her? Would she be called a fortune hunter if she spoke with Mr. Darcy?

Simply thinking about it made her feel ill. She made her way up to her room, and lay upon her bed.

She loathed money, and at this moment, she loathed people for what they let money do to them. She wanted Jane. She wanted the new Mrs. Collins. She might, at this moment, even be able to appreciate one of Mary's sermons.

And although Elizabeth's mind was weary, her legs wanted to take her and run away. She longed for the shelter of the familiar towering trees, and missed the coolness of the damp earth, and the soft rustling the leaves made, as they were disturbed. She wanted to plant her feet far apart, and yell as loud as she pleased. And she would not care how many gentlemen fell and hit their heads because of it. They could bleed all they wanted, and drag themselves for miles for help. But she would just keep on running in her white gown, and thin slippers. And would never have to make her way back. She would never come back. Never.

And then an exhausted Elizabeth, drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 6

Dear Readers,

Hold on to your bonnets—angst is ahead! Its high time for a villain to twist his moustache, dont you think? Dont worry, though—no death, no blood—just emotional trauma. Enjoy Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

Friday night came too quickly. Elizabeth considered having a great headache, but she knew how disappointed her aunt would be, if not suspicious. Georgiana would not be coming as Elizabeth had wished. Elizabeth had called on her, and promised her that she would not leave her alone for one moment, but Georgiana would have none of it. She begged Elizabeth to forgive her, and claimed she was too young and too awkward for a formal dinner party. Of course Elizabeth forgave her, and the two played duets on Georgianas pianoforte until just before the gentlemen were expected home, and Elizabeth felt the need to leave.

Elizabeth stood with Mrs. and Mr. Gardiner, welcoming their guests. Mrs. Boyle arrived with her ancient husband, and was happy to tell Elizabeth that her grandson was very pleased by her looks and manners, and would _not_ be sorry to dance with her again if the occasion arose. But she also kindly warned Elizabeth not to set her cap on him, since he was still young, and very susceptible to pretty faces, and had yet to learn the true value of an appropriate and suitable match. All of this had to be repeated loudly, so old Mr. Boyle, and the servants downstairs, could hear that Elizabeth should not set her cap on their precious, scrawny, heir apparent.

Elizabeth began to think that the name suited the lady perfectly, and wished for her permanent removal.

Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam entered, and Elizabeth did her best not to color when they both stood before her, and bowed. They looked more alike than Elizabeth had allowed. Both were tall, with similar builds and the same eyes--only one or two shades apart. Elizabeth was now almost embarrassed that she was attracted to Colonel Fitzwilliam, for it seemed that she simply found a lighter version, both in looks and manners, of the man she ran away from in Hertfordshire. Elizabeth had once fancied herself as sensible, but she questioned that, as she was beginning to question many things.

Mrs. Gardiner set an elegant table, and after drinks, Elizabeth found herself sitting next to, none other, than Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth knew it was by design, and tried to keep her countenance, when she realized where she would be spending the next hour and a half. She could see her aunt, at the foot of the table, and within earshot, smile quite innocently at her, as Elizabeths chair was pulled out for her to sit.

She rose to the occasion, and graciously smiled and talked to everyone around her, and even managed to speak of a few light and trivial things to Mr. Darcy, who looked gallant in his evening attire. Elizabeth was in the middle of listening to a Mrs. Munson speak of her recent visit to court, where the Prince Regent had fallen asleep, during the knighting of the Duke of Somethingshire, when Mrs. Boyles shrill voice came up significantly in volume, from the opposite end of the table.

"No, dearest! She only has one thousand _after_ her mothers death, not one thousand per annum! That would be at least something!"

Elizabeth froze for a moment, and she could see that a few faces had turned to her. Quickly and graciously, her dear uncle remarked on something humorous that happened outside of the House of Commons, and everyones attention was diverted. Almost everyones.

A low voice spoke next to her.

"Perhaps we should have cards printed out for you, so no one is confused on the subject, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth looked over at Mr. Darcy who was smiling. His eyes danced, as he continued.

"I know of a capital print shop in town, that might also be able to estimate the life spans of both your parents, which could be printed on the back, with your coat of arms."

She stared at him, not quite believing what she was hearing. After her shock wore off, she could not help but feel grateful that he was not repulsed by her situation, and he was making an effort to lessen her embarrassment, by making her laugh.

She smiled cautiously back at him. "As brilliant as that idea is, I do not think that will be necessary while Mrs. Boyle still breathes, Mr. Darcy," the lady whispered.

Darcy lowered his voice further, and leaned in a little bit closer to her ear. "Well, we can always hope for a well placed pheasant bone to block her air passage," he mused.

Elizabeths eyes widened. _Mr. Darcy told a joke, and it was a good one!_ She had to use her napkin to hide a sudden burst of laughter, which she successfully squelched, much to Darcys delight. His napkin was not needed, but he smiled widely, and enjoyed Elizabeths pleasure, more than he thought was possible.

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked over from across the table, noticing their camaraderie.

Elizabeth recovered, and whispered back, but while facing her own plate. "You shock me, Mr. Darcy. I did not think that you were capable of such indecorous thoughts. I was under the opinion that I alone was guilty of such things."

"Not at all, Miss Bennet. Great minds think alike."

And with that, he took a drink of his wine.

Elizabeth did the same, and looked up to notice Colonel Fitzwilliam smiling at her in a particular manner, though she could not read it. She quickly returned the smile.

"Miss Bennet, I understand that you called on Georgiana twice this week," added Darcy. "I think it odd, that I missed seeing you both times. Either your timing is very ill, or rather, very precise." He continued to work on his plate before him.

Elizabeth understood that he was accusing her of avoiding him, and had to think quickly.

"My timing had mostly to do when Miss Darcy was available, and when my uncles carriage could be spared, Mr. Darcy. There was no precision involved," she lied skillfully.

Elizabeths attention was drawn back to Mrs. Munson, to finish her story. And even though she was watching Mrs. Munson, in Elizabeths mind, her eyes were fixed on Mr. Darcy: his face, his smile, and his eyes. How he looked at her sideways while he leaned in toward her. How she could feel his breath on her neck. And how it seemed impossible that he could make light of something that seemed to occupy and concern most everyone else at the table.

It was not until a beautifully arranged silver platter was brought out, with a huge pheasant featured in the middle, did Elizabeth glance back at Darcy with a suppressed, but knowing smile. He lifted his wine glass, and nodded his head toward the bird, and then toward Mrs. Boyle.

Elizabeth did everything in her power not to laugh out loud again. And she was struck for the first time, by how easy it was to be with him, and how much she was enjoying his company. He was not the combative man she sparred with, every time they met in Hertfordshire. She wondered, and now marveled at the man next to her. _Who was he?_ Elizabeth could see the depth of his eyes, and could feel herself starting to lose herself in them. But still, something was keeping her from fully surrendering herself to those eyes. 

Darcy and Elizabeth were being observed carefully by Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Mrs. Gardiner. The former, wondering if his cousin had actually come to London for a different reason then he claimed, and the latter, congratulating herself on her brilliant seating chart.

Although no one choked on a pheasant bone, the evening was still considered a success. Besides the few heads that turned at dinner, Elizabeth did not feel prying eyes watching her every move, as she had feared. After dinner, she was able to spend time with many different people, so as not call attention to herself. She played a few hands of whist with Colonel Fitzwilliam, who continued to pay her plenty of attention and compliments, but there was something different about his manner. He did not seem as open, she thought.

Elizabeth was prevailed upon to play and sing at the pianoforte, but because she was forewarned by her aunt, she was able to practice, and thus performed well, even in her own eyes. She could not help but notice his thoughtful stare, as she moved toward her seat, after the performance. When her eyes met his, a tremor leapt through her. Fearing that she would walk straight into the wall, she averted her eyes, but the warmth, _his_ warmth stayed with her, and she did her utmost to keep her composure, as she welcomed the compliments of others around her.

There was much to think about when she went to bed that night, and Elizabeth knew full well that, once again, she would toss and turn—but this time a smile was thrown into the mix.

The next day brought a letter from Jane. She would be coming to London with Mrs. Bennet in two days, to buy wedding clothes. She asked Elizabeth to return with her to Longbourn, so they could be together these few weeks before her wedding. Elizabeth was torn, but would feel the loss of Jane greatly. Of course she would go back to Longbourn, but something deep inside her wished to stay, only she refused to give words to it.

Jane and Mrs. Bennet arrived on a Monday. Mrs. Gardiner welcomed them graciously, and was very patient with Mrs. Bennets ecstasies and nerves--each taking turns at will, and showing themselves at the most inopportune times.

The first order of business, the day after their arrival, was to go to Mademoiselle Adeles. The outr lady remembered Elizabeth, and winked at her, while she was introduced to Jane and Mrs. Bennet. Of course, she was in raptures about being able to dress Jane, spinning her around, and admiring her magnifique figure, and her angelique face.

Jane was _almost_ prepared ahead of time by her sisters detailed account of her visit, but it did not stop her from throwing Elizabeth amazed glances, when Mademoiselles breasts were not blocking her view.

Mrs. Bennet, however, was not prepared for Mademoiselle Adele.

"No, no, no, Jane, those will not do! They will not fall the way you want them to. There is such a thing as too delicate. Put that down. Here! Look at this one! It has a better weight to it." She started to go on about her experience with this and that, and how so-and-so looked absolutely hideous when she wore that type of lace, when Mademoiselle barreled up, and interrupted her.

"Shoo, shoo, shoo! Zees is all wrong! Please, Madame, back away, and let zee silk pick Miss Bennet!"

"I am certain, I do not know what you mean," Mrs. Bennet retorted, while she took everything there was to take in, about the strange lady.

"But of course, you do not know what I mean. Small woo-man."

Mrs. Bennet, being the same height as Elizabeth, was at eye level with her chest. Mademoiselle knew meddling mothers, and would not be putting up with this one. Mademoiselle Adele placed herself between Jane and Mrs. Bennet, facing the mother.

"You wait over there. Sit!" she commanded with great authority, and pointed to a pink tufted chair near the entrance.

Mrs. Bennet looked up at the lady in unbelief. Mademoiselle was dressed in bright canary yellow, resembling the sun--if it had fallen to earth, or more specifically, France, and then had its hair done. Mrs. Bennet looked over at Mrs. Gardiner, who slowly nodded, and prayed for her own sake, her sister-in-law would not make a scene. Elizabeth held her breath.

Mrs. Bennet stood perfectly still, eyeing the sizable lady before her. She pursed her lips. And then, without a word, she went to sit on the little seat.

Elizabeth could not believe her eyes, and glanced between Jane and her aunt, who were just as mystified, and impressed. Elizabeth had sudden respect for the bright yellow orb with the flaming hair.

"Now, ma cherie, you take your time. You touch zee fabreeks. See wheech ones make your heart smile, and zen we will talk."

Jane smiled, and started to examine and feel the silks, and lace before her.

Mademoiselle then turned her full attention on Elizabeth.

"Ah, my petit fugitif..."

Elizabeth looked up at her, surprised at the pet name.

"You have not worn it yet, have you?"

Elizabeth suddenly felt as if she was in the presence of something more than an eccentric dressmaker. A little chill went through her.

"Do not despair, for it will tell you when it is time. It will have its day in the sun."

Once again, Mademoiselle smiled. There was no bouncing beauty spot to distract this time, and Elizabeth was left standing in wonder, while Adele turned her attention back to Jane.

The London trip was a success, the wedding clothes were ordered, and many more things bought for Janes new life. Elizabeth was surprised how much Janes presence affected her. She truly felt what a loss it will be for her when she will no longer be at Longbourn, and they could no longer steal into each others room, and share their hearts, and dreams. For now Mr. Bingley had her heart, and her dreams would now be built on his.

Mrs. Gardiner kept Mrs. Bennet busy on their last afternoon, and Elizabeth was able to take Jane to call on Georgiana. Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were also there. They only stayed a quarter of an hour, since the carriage was needed back, but it gave Elizabeth a chance to say her goodbyes, as Georgiana would soon be leaving for the north, to continue her studies.

Elizabeth and Georgiana shed a few tears, and promised many letters between them. Colonel Fitzwilliam was positive that their paths would cross again, soon, and Mr. Darcy bowed deeply, and said that he would be coming to Hertfordshire one week before the wedding. He also wished her a safe, and most pleasant journey. Elizabeth was certain that he wanted to say more, and he even opened his mouth, but quickly shut it again, before looking back at his cousin. He smiled graciously at her, but said nothing else.

She was not completely torn, because she knew she would see him soon enough, and this might actually give her a chance to figure out her range of emotions. For she _was_ beginning to feel something. Just the mention of his name in casual conversation, would put her heart at full gallop. And if she happened to glance over at him, and found him already looking at her, she could feel herself melt like wax. Yet the thoughts of his outburst in the carriage, his treatment of others, bled into the scene, staining what had been lovely and spotless. She could not dismiss them. So, she looked at him one more time, before he helped her into the carriage, and tried to read his deep eyes, and impart something of her own in his. _Prove yourself, sir._

And then they left London.

Longbourn seemed a curious place to Elizabeth since her return. Although she had missed Jane and her father, it did not feel like a home to her anymore. It felt more like a stop for her until her journey continued. And it was, actually. She had settled it with Charlotte before Christmas, that she would come up to Kent with Sir William, and her sister, Maria in March. She would be home less than a month before she left again.

The wedding approached, and her mothers nerves took over the house with a vengeance. Elizabeth regularly found solace in her long walks, although Mr. Bennet was now concerned for the first time about her country rambling. She kissed him on the cheek, and told him that she would be a measly meal for any great cat, which may have escaped from traveling performers, and then she was off.

On this particular walk, Elizabeth gathered winter lavender. She had a basket full of it, and was making her way up to the road when she recognized Mr. Wickham on foot. He saw her, and stopped.

Elizabeth was not happy to see him, as he had been coming around Longbourn again, and too frequently. Apparently, Miss Kings uncle got wind of rumored gambling debts, and took his young and wealthy niece away to Ireland. Wickham seemed to have picked up where he had left off with Elizabeth, just as if it was the day after the Netherfield ball. He actually brought up the very ball, and made excuses, saying that he had unexpected business to tend to in town, and he very much regretted not being able to stand up with her. He had also heard that she did stand up with Mr. Darcy, and wondered out loud how unpleasant it was for her.

Elizabeth had felt very uncomfortable about his sudden interest in her again. Too much time had passed, and she was certain she was not even the same person she was back in November. She was short with him, and told him that Mr. Darcy was an excellent partner, he was surprisingly light on his feet, and improved greatly upon acquaintance. Wickham seemed surprised, and did not press the issue. He then turned his attention to her youngest sister, much to Elizabeths relief.

But here he was again, and she was quite annoyed.

"Miss Bennet! It is a lovely day, is it not?"

She forced herself to smile at his warm greeting. He came closer to her, and offered his arm, since she was navigating a small ridge before she reached the road, and she was obviously fatigued.

"It is a lovely day, Mr. Wickham. I thank you."

She took his arm, and he helped her up and over the ridge, and to the good side of the road. Once safe, she let go of his arm, and took a few steps away, and caught her breath.

"I am just enjoying a long walk. It is not often that Colonel Forster does not have us jumping at his every whim," he said as he looked at her basket.

"I see that you have been busy. What fragrant lavender you have found today." He took a step closer to her, and reached to take one from her basket. He put it under his nose.

"And what a picturesque place Hertfordshire is, Miss Elizabeth. I am certain that I have found myself in one of the most pleasant places in England. Do you not agree with me?" He looked at her teasingly, and she felt more annoyed, and now uncomfortable.

"Certainly. Hertfordshire is quite picturesque," she answered, while regaining their former distance. "I am just returning to Longbourn now, Ive been out a long time," she declared.

"Please let me escort you, Miss Elizabeth. It would be my honor."

Elizabeths ears grew hot. The nerve of him, thinking she would be seen alone on his arm!

"No thank you, Mr. Wickham. I am managing quite well, and I am not yet done with my task," she explained while she nodded toward her basket.

"But you just said, that you are returning to Longbourn."

"I am. I just am planning on finding more along the way. I would not want to deter you."

Wickham smiled at her lie. "Miss Elizabeth, I would be more than happy to pick lavender with you, for there is no where else I am supposed to be."

Elizabeth could feel that she was losing this battle, and knew she must change tactics.

"Mr. Wickham, as much as I appreciate the offer, I would rather you go on without me. We live in a small hamlet, and there is nothing more tempting to get the people to talk, than the sight of you and I, walking alone together."

Wickham laughed out loud at this, much to Elizabeths surprise.

"I do not care what the good people of Hertfordshire think, Miss Elizabeth. And I am quite surprised that you care, either."

He took another step toward her, and used the flower to touch under her chin. "You are quite independent, and thus impervious to speculations."

Elizabeth could smell liquor on his breath, and took two steps back from him. She spoke to him very firmly.

"Mr. Wickham, you have no idea who I am, and I beg you to please leave me immediately."

At that very moment, as Elizabeths words sank in, Wickhams face turned dark. He did not move, but glared at her.

"You mistake me, Elizabeth. I know exactly what you are about."

She startled at hearing her Christian name, and noticed the turn of his countenance.

He continued. "You received my attentions happily before Miss King came along, and now you mean to punish me for letting myself be diverted? You are ten times prettier than Miss King, Elizabeth, but you cannot fault me for looking for a more suitable match. A match made from money. Much like your sister, Jane, made."

Elizabeth was in high alarm by this time, but was not certain what to do.

"Mr. Wickham, you are far from the truth, believe me--"

Wickham started to walk slowly toward her, interrupting her, and talked with her in a most familiar and inappropriate manner.

"Do not play with me, Elizabeth. I can take many a ladys game, but I do not think I can bear yours."

At this, Elizabeth turned, and hurried away, a new wave of energy coming over her. But, in just a matter of seconds, Wickham was at her side, and grabbed her free wrist, pulling her to a stop.

She looked up at him in horror, and tried to free herself. "Mr. Wickham, let go of me this moment!" she cried loudly.

Without waiting for an answer, she swung the basket, which had a hard bottom, and hurled it against his head with her free arm. He released her arm, as she let the basket fall, and gained a bit of distance from him. She knew at this point it was useless to run, so she decided that words were her only ally.

Still at full voice, Elizabeth continued. "I do not know what has come over you, Mr. Wickham, but you best be on your way at this moment!" Her breathing was deep, and she tried to hide the fear in her eyes.

Brushing the few leaves and stems that had landed on his shoulder, Wickham smiled once again, but it was sly, calculated smile.

"Do not you see that it is fate? I think of none other than you, Elizabeth. And here you are, like a woodland nymph, gathering flora with the sunlight in your hair. This was meant to be."

Elizabeth was stunned by his words, and even more so, when he took slow steps toward her.

"Sir, if that is how you feel, then you are going about this in all the wrong ways Call at Longbourn. You may see me properly then," she begged.

"You are right. He looked around. This is all wrong, but how can I rectify it now? You will never receive me at Longbourn after this. And how could I bear that?"

And with that, he suddenly closed the gap between them, and forced his lips hard upon hers, grabbing her waist and pulling her close to him. He then clamped his arms around her back, trapping her arms in his grip.

Wickham got angrier the more Elizabeth resisted. He held her tighter, and tried to force her to respond. Elizabeth fought with all of her strength, and finally broke away, but he held fast to her left wrist. She glared intensely at the smirking man in front of her. She took a deep breath, and managed a substantial slap across his cheek that caused both of them pain.

Wickham reeled with the slap, and let go of her. He then leaned over and held his left cheek, while Elizabeth spun around and ran.

Coming around the corner, at that very moment, were two gentlemen on horseback. Elizabeth ran toward them with hot tears in her eyes, holding her right hand within her left. She recognized them immediately, and stopped only when she stood right in front of them, her mind racing.

Bingley and Darcy were coming from calling at Longbourn. Darcy, having arrived just the day before, was keenly disappointed that Elizabeth was out, and was quelling his displeasure, when the very person who occupied his mind, came running toward them in obvious distress.

Darcy looked at her astonished. Beyond her was Mr. Wickham, still holding his stinging cheek, and further down, in the middle of the road, was an upset basket of lavender. Darcy dismounted, and was at her side in a moment.

"Miss Bennet, are you alright?" He was all concern and protectiveness.

Elizabeth could not speak, and had a difficult time looking him in the eye. She brushed away a tear, and tried to replace a curl that had come loose. _Oh, not him! Please not him!_ She wanted to disappear. She wanted to wish herself far away.

He lightly held her arm to steady her, and looked her over. He saw that even though her hair was mussed, that her frock was still pressed and in place, and surmised that they had arrived in time. He looked up at Bingley, who was still trying to make sense of the situation.

"Bingley! Stay here with Miss Bennet." He then trained his eye on Wickham, and strode straight toward him.

Bingley hopped down from his horse and took Elizabeths trembling hand. "Miss Elizabeth, have you been harmed? What happened?"

Elizabeth looked over at Darcy, who had already reached Mr. Wickham. Mr. Wickham had straightened up and was readying himself. She looked back at Bingley. She did not know what to say, or how to say it.

"Did Mr. Wickham harm you? Pray, please tell me your troubles, Miss Elizabeth, for we are almost brother and sister!"

Bingley was so sincere in his words, and Elizabeth had always longed for a brother, that she let a sob escape. Bingley awkwardly patted his pockets, and then produced a handkerchief. He then gently put his arm about her protectively, steering her away from viewing the two gentlemen.

"Miss Elizabeth, you must tell me what happened, before Darcy horsewhips Mr. Wickham." He looked earnestly into her eyes.

Elizabeth wiped her eyes. "Mr. Wickham, would not let me leave. I begged him in earnest..." but he Elizabeth could not go on, and cried some more. Mr. Bingley, feeling that he heard enough, turned to look toward Darcy and Wickham, but continued to shield Elizabeth.

Darcy stood very close to Mr. Wickham, towering over him. Their voices were low and neither of them moved. Bingley hoped that Darcy _would_ horsewhip the blackguard, or worse! He then turned his attention back to Elizabeth.

"What can I do for you? Please let me know what I can do, Miss Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth could not help but smile a little at his awkward concern. "Mr. Bingley, you have already done enough by just being present. Thank you for your concern. I am very grateful. And I soon shall be myself." Although she knew better.

At that moment, Darcy joined them. He looked grave, but tried to rally when he saw that Elizabeth was struggling with tears, and that she was now trembling.

His coat was off in a second and wrapped securely around Elizabeth. Darcy supported her weight, while she tried to stop her tears, and the thoughts that were assaulting her. He exchanged glances with Bingley before he addressed Elizabeth.

"Miss Bennet, Mr. Wickham is gone. He will not be bothering you again, I assure you."

Elizabeth managed to glance his way. Thank you, sir.

Darcy and Bingley exchanged glances again, while Elizabeth made use of the handkerchief.

"Miss Elizabeth, we must get you back to Longbourn directly, Bingley stated with authority. For you are not well."

Elizabeth looked up startled. She sobered and took a step away from Darcy.

"Please, sirs, you must not speak of what happened today. I simply could not bear it," she begged.

"Miss Bennet, your parents, at least, need to know what happened to you," Mr. Bingley exclaimed.

"Sir, you do not understand. My father might be prevailed upon to keep a cool head, but my mother will not! She will demand that Wickham make restitutions. She will hound my father, and speak of it freely to anyone who has ears. She will have me married off to him in a fortnight! Please, let us just forget all of this. It will be much better for me, if it all can be forgotten!"

Elizabeth looked between Bingley and Darcy, and she trembled even more. Bingley looked at her incredulously, but Darcy seemed to have more understanding.

"Miss Bennet, I do understand your fears, believe me, but this man needs to be exposed in some manner, explained Mr. Darcy gently."

"Please, just do not let it be at my expense. Please sir, do not condemn me to a life with a man who..." She could not find the words. She simply buried her face in her hands.

The gentlemen looked helplessly at each other, and waited for Elizabeth to calm.

"Miss Elizabeth, can you really expect us to do nothing?" Bingley asked.

"I **am** asking you to do something, Mr. Bingley. Something of great importance to me. Please let me go on with my life. Making this deed known will only mean my ruin. A celibate life would be better than a marriage to a man like that. I beg of you to simply escort me home. Say that you found me almost faint by the road, and leave it at that. Please, Mr. Bingley. Please, Mr. Darcy."

The gentlemen did not want to distress Elizabeth further, so they gathered her basket, and took her home. Darcy placed her gently on his horse, and walked quietly along side. All the while wracking his brain, and playing out scenarios in his head. But mostly, hating himself to the core. He swore to himself. He swore at himself! Elizabeths despondent face, her tears, and her trembling body were tearing at his very soul. What had he done? How could he make restitutions? Oh, how Wickham would pay!

There was not much conversation on the way to Longbourn, but Elizabeths trembling turned into uncontrollable shivers, alarming both gentlemen. They wanted to pick up the pace, to get her home sooner, but were afraid that Elizabeth would not be able to hold on to the reigns.

While Elizabeth weakly protested their plan, Darcy gently pulled her off of his horse. Bingley was waiting next to him, and took her from Darcy, supporting her weight. Darcy mounted his horse, and Bingley handed a still protesting Elizabeth, up to him. Darcy wrapped her as tightly as he could in his coat, while Bingley mounted his own horse.

Elizabeth continued to tell Mr. Darcy that this was most unnecessary, between chatters. That was, until he quoted her own verse to her, and told her that _he_ was the sun today, and that she should not speak against him, for it would do no good. She sighed between her shivers, and let herself fall into his chest, and resigned herself to it all.

She endeavored to not think on what happened to her on the path, but she purposely took note of each sound, every scent, and every movement. She wanted to remember the way it felt to be held closely by him, to commit to memory his strong arms, his intake of breath against her side, and to burn into her heart, the beats she felt and heard against her ear, as they matched her own. For all too soon, they would part. It would be over.

How torn Darcy was. How he wanted to explain everything to her right there. She was tucked up against him, and he was holding her securely, but she was most obviously going into shock. She continued to shiver almost to the point of convulsions, and Darcy held her even tighter, and kept assuring her in the most sympathetic terms, that she would soon be home, and would be able to rest comfortably.

Once at Longbourn, Elizabeth pleaded that she be let down to walk under her own power, assuring Darcy that she was quite recovered, although her shivering had not completely let up. Reluctantly, Darcy lowered Elizabeth down, set her carefully on the gravel, and without letting her arm go, jumped down after her. He studied her, to make sure that she was steady, but her eyes started to fall back into her head, and she started to sway. He immediately swept her up, before she fell backward.

"Darcy! Is she alright?" Bingley cried out.

"She has fainted. Get the door."

As Bingley rushed off, Darcy leaned in to Elizabeths face, as her head bobbed with each step he took.

"Elizabeth," he whispered, "Forgive me, my love. Forgive me for hurting you over and over again."

He carried her to the front door where Bingley, and a very alarmed, but steady, Jane, awaited.

Darcy brought Elizabeth inside, and followed Jane into the parlor, where he placed her gently on a couch, while Mrs. Bennet cried out loud, at the sight of her lifeless daughter.

Darcy did exactly as Elizabeth wished, and explained calmly, that they found her tired and faint, by the side of the road, and she had only just lost consciousness. Jane kneeled beside Elizabeth, and touched her forehead. She untied the bonnet that hung down her back, and tried to awaken her sister.

"Lizzy? Lizzy?"

Mrs. Bennet did not disappoint, and made the expected scene, already having the entire household in uproar. She had servants rush around getting cold compresses, hot tealeaves, and smelling salts. Kitty was crying into her fathers chest, and Mary was praying in the corner. Mrs. Bennet apologized profusely to the gentlemen, and explained that Elizabeth had been a very troublesome creature as of late, and prayed that she did not ruin their day.

After a few minutes, Elizabeths eyes opened, and not long after that, she sat up. She was mortified that she had actually fainted, and even more so because Darcy and Bingley were still there. But she was put more at ease when the story, that she had asked to be related, was repeated to others, who now joined them in the room. Elizabeth did not dare look at Darcy. She could not bear it.

She had what she set out to get. And from this point on, she would pull from her private remembrances of the horse ride home.

After making sure Elizabeth was well enough, the gentlemen took their leave. Elizabeth could hear the hooves against the gravel, and listened intently, until she could hear no more. And the subsequent ache that pierced her, that cut her to her very core, did not cease.

With the Gardiners back at Longbourn for the wedding, Elizabeth and Jane shared a room. And since the wedding was only four days away, Elizabeth chose not to distress her sister with the intelligence of what had transpired. She had developed a real headache from her tears and mortification, and therefore, successfully hid the truth.

As she lay next to her sleeping sister, Elizabeth could see Wickhams sudden turn of countenance. She could hear his alarming words echoing in her head, and could feel his tense body, and angry lips on hers. _She was ruined. She was ruined._ Her mind could reconcile nothing else. Her head continued to pound, and she fell into a troubled sleep.

The wedding was everything that Jane had hoped for, save her mother, who could not stop speaking of Janes new income, and how she would have such fine clothes, carriages, and hundreds in pin money. Elizabeth was happy for Jane, yet so miserable at the same time.

Mr. Darcy was everywhere. He stood up with his friend, as Elizabeth stood up with Jane. They were thrown together with all of the pre-wedding and wedding festivities. She wanted nothing more than to be away from his knowing looks. Even though he was nothing but kind and gentleman-like, he knew. He knew what had happened. And she knew that she could never be anything in his eyes now. And she was angry with herself, for even thinking she could have been anything in the first place.

The moment Jane and Bingley pulled away in their carriage, Elizabeth found her way up to her room. No more Jane. No more sanity. It was almost unbearable. Elizabeth clung to the fact that she would be leaving in two days time. She would be going to visit Charlotte, now Mrs. Collins, at her new home in Kent. She did not care that she would be exposed to Mr. Collins. His silliness seemed nothing, compared to what she had experienced since the day he proposed. That was a lifetime ago. All she cared about was putting miles and miles between her, and anything that reminded her of the meeting with Mr. Wickham.


	4. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sir William Lucas and Maria were good companions. Sir William liked to speak of London, his knighthood, and his daughter's fortunate alliance; and Maria talked about ball gowns, bonnets, and how very frightened she was already of Lady Catherine, without ever setting eyes on her. Between them, they kept the conversation flowing, and Elizabeth did not have to think much about anything else. The weather held up nicely, and the trip was quite pleasant, all things considered.

As expected, they were met with great affability at Hunsford cottage. Mr. Collins had a way of effusing his pleasure, and delighted in showing his guests every porcelain object, every piece of silver, and every improvement made to his humble abode. What was unexpected was the emotional greeting they received, from the normally reserved Charlotte. She actually had tears when she welcomed them, and grabbed her dear Lizzy so tight, that Elizabeth quite lost her breath for a moment.

After a good half hour of Mr. Collins' exhaustive, and very verbose tour, Charlotte was finally able to get Elizabeth alone, and the two old friends were able to converse as they used to. Charlotte spoke of learning to run the her house, Lady Catherine's over- attentiveness, and Mr. Collins' love of being in his garden and study.

Elizabeth was pleased to learn that her friend was actually content in her situation. And the more Elizabeth observed during her visit, the more she could see that the match was a good one on both sides. Charlotte was not sentimental, and did not require what Elizabeth deemed most important. She noted the distinction, and finally absolved Charlotte, in her heart, for the offense of marrying a ridiculous man.

Only days after Elizabeth's arrival, Lady Catherine de Bourgh extended a dinner invitation at Rosings, and almost all at the rectory were in a state of nervousness about it. Mr. Collins told his young sister-in-law and cousin not to worry about their plain dresses, that Lady Catherine preferred having the distinction of rank preserved. Elizabeth smiled to herself as she pondered wearing one of her London gowns, but decided against it. She would wait until the distinction of rank was set first.

Rosings was quite imposing. Elizabeth had never seen such a huge estate. It was ancient, and drafty, filled with armor, gilded furniture and thick intricate tapestries. In keeping with the house, Lady Catherine was also formidable. Besides being large in width and stature, she did her best to find out all she could about Elizabeth, and had comments and disapprovals about most everything she heard. But Elizabeth would not be ruffled. She considered all this a necessary evil, so she put up with it, and tried her best to be patient, and gracious, even in the face of Lady Catherine's ill behavior.

Lady Catherine had a daughter who was small, sickly, and did not say much. How she came forth from such an immense woman, Elizabeth knew not. They were polar opposites. She tried to engage Miss de Bourgh in conversation, but failed miserably each time. She thought Anne was a strange little creature, and wondered what her life must be like with such a mother. Elizabeth smiled, as she thought for the first time in her life, that she had been blessed in comparison. She could not wait to write to Jane, the new Mrs. Bingley, and tell her about the great lady.

Elizabeth soon settled into an agreeable routine at Hunsford. Daily walks were a must. She was joined, at times, by Charlotte and Maria, and other times, she was able to get out by herself. Spring was in full bloom, and the flowers, the woods, and the hills held great attraction for Elizabeth, and there were no officers about to be wary of. She was healing. She was resigning herself. But she was _not_ forgetting.

Darcy was fresh in her mind, no matter what she did to keep from thinking of him. She could see him standing in front of her, smiling at her with no reserve, with complete abandon. Warmth would wash all over her, and she could not believe that she could possibly be the object of such a gaze—of such adoring eyes. But then, she would see his face become distracted, almost disgusted by something behind her. Elizabeth would turn to look over her shoulder, only to behold Wickham, standing in his red coat, with a cunning smile, holding a single lavender stem in his hand. She would then look back toward Mr. Darcy, and he would be gone.

Five evenings had already been spent at Rosings, but the invitations abruptly stopped, when Lady Catherine had family come to stay for Easter. Elizabeth was pleased to be out from under the great lady's scrutiny, if even for a few days, and Charlotte was relieved not to have interference in running her household for those same few days. For Charlotte was sure Lady Catherine had spies, and would show up out of nowhere, if she found out that the apples were stored in the opposite corner than she had advised.

Elizabeth set out by herself this fine morning. She had a letter from her father, and had not opened it yet. Although Mr. Bennet had much affection for his second daughter, he never wrote just for the sake of writing. He was not a man ruled by emotions, so he did not trifle with sentiments, or tedious descriptions of the budding leaves or green hills. He only penned a letter when there was something worth writing about, so Elizabeth was quite curious of its contents. She opened it while she walked at a leisurely pace.

He started by declaring that if Elizabeth should never return, he might be forced to find an occupation, only for the excuse to leave the house every day for long periods of time. He was currently considering becoming a highwayman, because the hours seemed flexible, the pay seemed handsome enough, and most importantly, he already had a great black cloak. He also asked his Lizzy if she preferred rubies or sapphires, but promised to do his best to get plenty of both.

Elizabeth smiled, and thought how she missed him. She then looked back at the letter, and got to the cream. He wrote of the scuttlebutt about town. Every villager was full of it. The very Wickham of their acquaintance, had been attacked outside of Meryton, on Monday night.

Elizabeth's heart pounded, and stuck in her throat, at the name. His face was instantly in her mind, and she was not sure if she could continue, but her eyes read on.

Her father wrote that Wickham claimed to not be able to identify the attackers. But witnesses, who saw no faces, just dark figures, reported there were three. Whispers that a large unpaid debt was the catalyst, set the townsfolk to conclude that his creditors were responsible, and had given him a short amount of time to pay it back, and _this_ was his warning.

Wickham claimed that all was well, although his face was quite misshapen, his ponytail snipped off, and from all reports, he now walked in a most peculiar manner.

Elizabeth stood still when she read the account, and was trying to figure out how she felt about it, when Maria came calling after her, in great haste.

Maria, who did not exert herself unless it was absolutely necessary, was winded, and had a hard time explaining herself. Although it was apparent that something she deemed important was happening, or was about to happen. Finally, she caught her breath, and was able to relate that Lady Catherine's nephews, Mr. Darcy, and a Colonel Fitzwilliam were coming to call at the parsonage.

Going completely numb, Elizabeth stared at Maria. She could not feel her body, or the ground beneath her feet. Only Maria's voice startled her back.

"Come Lizzy! For Mr. Collins bid you to come quickly. They will be here very soon. Make haste!"

This was not happening. She was not ready to face him. It did not make any sense for him to call at the parsonage, except possibly for Colonel Fitzwilliam's sake.

"Lizzy, please!"

Elizabeth knew she could not dismiss herself from the callers. She would have to get this over with, and then do her best to recover—to pick up her lifeless body, and start all over again.

The gentlemen came as expected, and were greeted with more than enough enthusiasm from Mr. Collins. Elizabeth was able to maintain her expression when they walked into the parlor, and even smiled Darcy's way, but without making direct eye contact.

Colonel Fitzwilliam could not hide his pleasure at seeing Elizabeth again. He complimented her on how well she looked, and Elizabeth noticed that he glanced over at Mr. Darcy at that moment.

Darcy sat down near a corner, letting Colonel Fitzwilliam have the closest seat. He then inquired about her health and the state of her family, to which she answered politely, only glancing at him once. But even with that one look, she saw pain in his eyes. She knew those eyes, and her very presence pained him. Tears almost welled up. She did everything she could, to keep from excusing herself, and running upstairs to throw herself upon her bed. _Why did he have to come?_

Darcy was at his own loss. He had been scorned by Elizabeth time and time again, during the wedding festivities. He tried to get near her, to converse with her—anything, but she would always have an excuse to move to the opposite side of the room, or would suddenly be very occupied by one of her young cousins. He swore he saw tears in her eyes more than once, and he knew he was responsible for them. He was responsible for the pain and humiliation she felt. Her encounter with Wickham was his fault entirely, and it tortured him. He could not sleep for seeing Elizabeth running toward him, and seeing Wickham bent over, but smirking in the background.

And now, he came to somehow make amends to her, to explain everything, and throw himself on her mercy. But seeing her once again, and not knowing how to approach her, unnerved him. He brought Fitzwilliam with the hopes that he could somehow work on Elizabeth for him. He knew it was cowardly, but at least Elizabeth would talk to him, and not run away.

The gentlemen took their leave after about fifteen minutes, leaving Mr. Collins in raptures about what illustrious guests he had entertained, and how very honored he was to have such a patroness who would attract such persons. He was then very distracted and determined to have a very fitting sermon come Sunday, to suit the visitors in the congregation. Perhaps it should be on the parable of the lost coin, or possibly King Solomon, and his visit from the Queen of Sheba.

One day later, an invitation came from Rosings for a formal dinner for the following evening. Once again, Mr. Collins could not be contained. He pressed his young guests to understand just how fortunate they were, to be included in such company as this. Elizabeth shook her head, having been in company "like this" plenty of times. But she could not shake off her dread at having to spend an entire evening pretending that she did _not_ spend a quarter of an hour pressed up against him. That his arms did not pull her into his very being, and that she had not felt safer in her entire life then she did those fleeting moments. She did not feel equal to it, but did not know how to get out of it either.

Elizabeth opened her eyes the next morning. The sun poured through her window and made her blink, and turn her face. She had to concentrate to remember where she was, for the sun temporarily blinded her, and she had a fleeting thought that she was back at the Gardiner's. She smiled for a moment, remembering the dinner where Mr. Darcy teased and put her at ease, and how she tried not to laugh when the pheasant came into the room on the massive platter. She expected despair to come crashing over her musing, as it did when she indulged herself for even the briefest of moments. She braced herself, but nothing came. She sat up, a little surprised at her overall mood, and looked around. She saw her trunk in the corner. She could not miss it, for the beams through the window spilled across the room and onto it.

She put her feet on the floor and made her way over to the trunk. She opened it, and at that moment, something odd came over her. She had not thought about what she would wear to dinner at Rosings. Last night, she was still thinking up ways to get out of the obligation. Elizabeth had worn her nicest Hertfordshire gowns to Rosings, but for some reason, she _did_ think it was necessary to pull out a new gown for tonight. The deep green silk. Her favorite. The one her younger sisters fought openly over when they saw it. She could hear Mademoiselle Adele's French accent in her head, and see the beauty spot trying to jump off of her powdered face.

"_You will call your beloved to you, when you wear zees."_

Yes, she would wear the dress. She looked at it as an elaborate costume now, and she could play the part of the beautiful, but persecuted heroine, who was to dine with the very people who wished her harm--who very well might want to poison her. Elizabeth thought that she could at least laugh inside, as she watched the very dress that was supposed to draw her beloved to her, repel instead. How Elizabeth loved irony.

Charlotte smiled knowingly when Elizabeth came down the stairs that evening. She was well aware how beautiful her friend was, but seeing her in the exquisite gown with her hair arranged so, made her see that Elizabeth was destined for something more, and she was pleased to know it.

"Lizzy, you look more than lovely," Charlotte enthused.

Maria came down at that moment, and gasped when she saw her. "Oh my! Lizzy! Where did you ever get that gown? It is so beautiful!"

"My aunt had it made for me when I was in London. I never had a chance to wear this one." Elizabeth looked down at her dress, smiling. "The dressmaker told me that my future husband would find me in this. I am wearing it as a joke, since… well, since not even a footman would dare look at me at Rosings."

"You know better than that, Lizzy," Charlotte answered. "I can imagine a couple pairs of eyes that will be drawn to you, and your dress this evening."

Maria giggled.

"Hush, Charlotte," was all Elizabeth could reply before Mr. Collins came down the stairs. He looked around, and then his eyes stopped on Elizabeth, and they widened.

"My dear cousin! How well you look this evening, and such an elegant gown you have. I certainly think that Lady Catherine will not mind seeing you in such finery since you are, in fact, a gentleman's daughter. No, I think she will find it very appropriate considering the company we are to keep this evening. My, such a dress! It suits your eyes! Your attire does you service, cousin Elizabeth. A finer lady would definitely outshine you in many aspects, but you will be a sterling addition to our party this evening, if I do say so myself."

Elizabeth wished at that moment, she could change into her breakfast robe and thick boots, but it was too late.

Darcy spent too much time deciding what to wear. He had his valet bring him five coats before he decided on one. He was upset at himself for being so nervous. Such a hold Elizabeth had on him, and she had no idea.

When Elizabeth left Hertfordshire, Darcy was not aware of her absence, until he came to call at Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet was more than surprised to see him, and had no idea that he came to see Elizabeth.

"Miss Elizabeth is off to Kent to visit the new Mrs. Collins. She has recently married our cousin, Mr. Collins. I think that you are acquainted with him."

She offered him tea, but he contrived a reason not to stay, and left saying that he only came to bring news of the newly weds' safe arrival in Bath.

The Colonel entered Darcy's chambers, and laughed at his cousin, when he saw the pile of discarded coats.

"Darcy, you coxcomb, are you not done preening yet? Our guests will arrive soon, and Lady Catherine will break your ankle herself, if you are late. And then you will see if there are any angels here to come to your rescue."

"You are not making things easier for me, as you should, Fitzwilliam," Darcy answered.

"Yes, you want me to get the lovely Miss Elizabeth Bennet to talk to you." Fitzwilliam walked behind Darcy as he worked on his cravat in the mirror. "The secret, Cousin, is to talk with her yourself, and not stay in a corner sighing, and looking stupid."

"Ever since her encounter with Wickham, she has avoided me. She will barely even look my way. You have seen it."

"Think of how mortified she must be, Darcy! Wickham could have done much worse, and she might be under the impression that you think more happened than what actually did. The poor thing must think that you think very ill of her. You must make her see that you are not affected at all by what transpired. Let her know that you are at ease around her. Let her see that she is highly thought of, and wait for her to look your way again."

He turned to face Darcy. "I have seen her look at you in a most particular way before, and it almost killed me."

"What if she will not forgive me, Fitzwilliam?"

"Miss Bennet seems a forgiving, merciful soul, but you have to wait for the right time and place for that. No confessions this evening. Tonight, you need to win her. You know my feelings. I would have you at swords end if I did not have to worry about fortune, Darcy. She is the loveliest woman I have ever met… I hate you for it, but I will hope for you all the same, as I cannot even enter the game."

At dinner, Elizabeth sat in between Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy. If it were not for the seriousness of what happened to Elizabeth, and his own feelings toward the lady, the Colonel would think this a great joke. Darcy was struggling with his overwhelming feelings for this beautiful woman sitting next to him. Her eyes, her hair, the scent of lavender and roses had him shifting in his seat. He could not decide which impulse was stronger: to tell her how much he loved her, or to run from the room—or both, in that order. Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to be placed at the opposite end of the table.

What was not a joke was how very stunning Elizabeth looked. Her large eyes picked up the very shade of her gown, and shown out like emeralds from under her thick lashes in the candlelight. Her deep brown hair was swept up with a few loose curls caressing her ivory neck and pink cheeks. And the cut of her dress showed off her pleasing form to great advantage. Once again, Colonel Fitzwilliam was well aware what he suffered for being the second born son. He was certain would have fought and won Elizabeth's heart, if he had his father's title. It would not have been a fair fight with Darcy's natural shyness, and his own easy openness.

Even Lady Catherine had to remark on how handsome Elizabeth looked that evening, but also commented on how crudely her sleeves were made. They were not at all in proportion with the rest of her gown. She offered her own dressmaker to work on them, but Elizabeth graciously declined, mentioning that smaller sleeves were in fashion in London this season.

Fitzwilliam purposely stayed out of conversation with Elizabeth, in order to give Darcy a chance. He shot Darcy a look behind Elizabeth's head, and would have kicked him under the table, if he could be sure he would not kick Elizabeth instead. Darcy got the hint. He took a quiet breath and turned toward Elizabeth.

"Miss Bennet, have you heard recently from your sister, the new Mrs. Bingley?" He did his best to look unaffected and easy, although his stomach was churning.

Without turning, Elizabeth answered. "Yes, I received a letter yesterday."

"And did she and Mr. Bingley seem well?" He smiled, even though she did not look his way.

"Yes, they both seemed to be enjoying Bath, though there has been much rain." Elizabeth nodded his way, but still did not turn her eyes from her plate.

At that moment, Lady Catherine spoke. "Miss Bennet, I understand that you are previously known to both my nephews."

"Yes, Ma'am. I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Darcy in Hertfordshire last fall, and I met Colonel Fitzwilliam in town this winter."

"You seem to be in many places, Miss Bennet. Such a young woman to be flitting off in every direction. I wonder if you might be leaving us soon for a grander location," Lady Catherine poked.

"Not at all, your ladyship. I will return to Hertfordshire when the month is up," she answered patiently.

"I find Hertfordshire a dull, and dirty county. And you have grown up there. I do not wonder at you leaving at any opportunity, Miss Bennet."

Lady Catherine did not wait to hear Elizabeth's reply, and was on to another subject with Charlotte, when Darcy leaned slightly toward her, and spoke in a low, but very familiar voice.

"Do you think my aunt might be serving pheasant tonight, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth could not help but color at the joke. She was more than surprised. She was thinking that Mr. Darcy was only doing his duty to make light conversation, because she sat so near him. But there was no reason to make a private joke if he was simply being courteous. She turned her head slightly to meet his gaze. He was smiling at her with a smile she had known, and secretly grown quite fond of, and it took her breath away.

She stared at him for several seconds, measuring the depths of his eyes. Trying to read what he was so desperately trying to put forward. She finally developed a small, cautious smile.

"Once again, Mr. Darcy, I was thinking that I was the only one in this room capable of such thoughts."

"Never underestimate the virtues of a well cooked pheasant, Miss Bennet," he teased.

Elizabeth's spirits were immediately lifted. The dinner that she dreaded, being seated next to the second-to-last-person on earth she wanted to see, had taken a surprising turn. She came in costume, to play a part, to act the heroine, but she was being pulled into her own very genuine story.

Mr. Darcy was suddenly all at ease, as he had been in London. As he had been for a few short minutes under a tree, all too long ago. Did her unfortunate encounter with Wickham not have the negative effect she thought? Did she imagine that? Could he be actually thinking of her? It was all too much! She could not quite wrap her mind around it, yet he sat next to her waiting for a reply.

Elizabeth turned and looked at him from under her long lashes, and kept her voice low.

"I put my hopes in a cooked pheasant once, Mr. Darcy. I will not make the same mistake again. Besides, if the pheasant succeeded, then whom would be there to rectify the horror of my sleeves?"

Darcy smiled even bigger, knowing that he was succeeding, and also that he could once again see those amazing eyes sparkle at him. He thought of almost nothing, then when he held her so close, enveloping her small shivering body. She smelled like a field of lavender that day, and in that coat she still lingered. How he wanted to hold her again. How he wanted her to know just how much he ardently loved and admired her… so he quelled any imbecilic impulse he had, and focused on expressing his admiration properly.

"Miss Bennet, there is nothing wrong with your sleeves. Although, I would have not noticed them at all, if Lady Catherine's comment had not pried my eyes from your lovely face. You are quite a vision this evening." He smiled, but held a seriousness within his eyes, that he prayed Elizabeth would read and understand.

She looked at him curiously for a few seconds, then smiled and turned away. Heat rushed to her face. She was astonished. Not only was he teasing her, but he was complimenting her right in front of his relations. She glanced over and met Colonel Fitzwilliam's smile. She was sure that he heard everything, and yet he did not blink.

She decided right then, that she was going to wear this dress everywhere.

Mr. Darcy stayed attentive during dinner. They were joined in conversation by Fitzwilliam, when he was certain that Darcy made enough progress to do so. Lady Catherine did her best to have a hand in each conversation, and would demand to know what was being said out of her earshot. Charlotte noticed Darcy's attentions to her friend, but endeavored not to look too often, as she did not want to alert Lady Catherine to it.

After dinner, Elizabeth was applied to, or rather ordered to play at the pianoforte. Lady Catherine had heard her before, and did not hold back her criticism in front of the gentlemen. Elizabeth bore it like a saint and continued to play, and considered it fortunate that she was not asked to sing. Colonel Fitzwilliam offered to turn the pages for her, as Darcy was at the great lady's service.

"Miss Bennet, you look remarkably well this evening, but I overheard Darcy phrase it much more eloquently," he remarked watching her closely.

"I thank you for your compliment, Colonel Fitzwilliam. You and your cousin are all politeness," she declared while she continued to play.

"Politeness has nothing to do with it, I assure you," the gentleman noted.

Elizabeth did not know where this was leading, so she continued to read the music in front of her, and play to the best of her ability.

"My cousin is not one to give out compliments unless they are truly warranted."

Elizabeth glanced over at the Colonel, not knowing what she was looking for. He smiled warmly, and she looked back at her music, all the while playing.

"I once talked with you about sincerity, Miss Bennet. May I sincerely say, that I do not think I have known anyone more sincere than my cousin? He does not trifle or flatter. Everything he does and says, is heartfelt, I assure you."

Elizabeth stopped playing without even knowing it. She looked over at the Colonel with such a puzzled look. Lady Catherine heard the break in the music, and commented.

"You will never play well, Miss Bennet, if you do not practice. You may come here and use the pianoforte in Mrs. Jenkinson's room. You will be in nobody's way in that part of the house." Lady Catherine continued to speak of her great knowledge and appreciation of music, that few could attain, and Mr. Collins agreed with her profusely.

At that, Darcy walked away from the lady, and toward the pianoforte. Elizabeth immediately began where she had left off, not knowing what to think, now that he approached. Not knowing how to act. Did Colonel Fitzwilliam just inform her that Mr. Darcy had designs on her? She did her best to get her fingering right, and not to make any further mistakes.

"Ah, Darcy… Do you think that _we_ will be in no one's way in that part of the house as well?" the Colonel asked with a smirk.

Elizabeth could not help but to smile at Colonel Fitzwilliam's joke.

"You and I were always in the way at Rosings, Richard. I remember playing Hide-and-Go-Seek when we were very young, along with your brother, and you hid in Lady Catherine's bed, only to have her come in for a nap, and almost lay on top of you," Darcy mused.

"Yes, I must have laid as still as I could for a quarter of an hour, barely breathing, until the great lady turned over and almost crushed me. I could get no air, and had no recourse but to gasp and claw my way out from under her."

Both gentlemen quelled their laughter for the sake of not catching Lady Catherine's ear, and Elizabeth did the same. She played now for the sole purpose of cloaking the tête-à-tête.

"And that is when you became her favorite, Darcy. I still have half a mind to tell her that you were hiding underneath her bed."

"You would not dare, Richard, for she would never believe you," Darcy added with a sly smile.

"You are probably right, Darcy. I cannot win. It is a fact." Fitzwilliam turned to Elizabeth, and waited a couple of seconds before he spoke again, looking at what he lost, and then finding himself again.

"After she got over the shock of her small bedmate, and we both quit screaming, she had me by my ear, and dragged me down three flights of stairs to my mother." Fitzwilliam rubbed his ear. "I still think that this one is a good half inch higher because of it."

"And what is your excuse for that side of your nose?" Darcy asked dryly, nodding to the left side of Fitzwilliam's face.

This time Colonel Fitzwilliam could not help but to laugh out loud. They all cringed at the same time, waiting for her Ladyship to demand a part in the conversation, but somehow they escaped unheard.

"Come now, gentlemen," Elizabeth chided while still playing. "Should you be separated into opposite corners? Or shall I have Lady Catherine come take you each by the ear, to make you behave? You will get all three of us in trouble if you keep this up."

"You are right, Miss Bennet. We would not want to get you in trouble. I beg your forgiveness. We shall wait until you leave, before we spar in the great hall, and knock down an ancient and irreplaceable suit of armor." Mr. Darcy finished, just as Elizabeth finished her piece.

"I'm glad to hear it, Mr. Darcy. For sparring with me, is a dangerous endeavor, indeed, if you recall. There would be more than ancient suits of armor to worry about."

Elizabeth stood up, as did Fitzwilliam. "I think I will join the rest of the party, before I find Lady Catherine rolling on top of me." She curtsied to the two beaming gentlemen, and crossed the room to Charlotte.

Elizabeth sat down; her ears hot and mind racing. Charlotte, noticed her friend's faint smile and slight discomposure. She looked past Elizabeth and saw the two gentlemen with great smiles on their faces, refreshing their drinks.

It had been a remarkable evening, and Charlotte had missed it.

As Elizabeth was readying herself for bed, a knock came at her door. Charlotte slid in and closed the door behind her. She looked at Elizabeth with a knowing smile until Elizabeth could bear it no longer.

"Charlotte! What is it?" she exclaimed with a low voice.

"I am afraid that it is you who needs to disclose something to me, Lizzy."

Charlotte grabbed Elizabeth's hand and pulled her to sit upon the bed with her. She looked at her straight in the eyes.

"Lizzy. What is going on? You seemed to have a very eventful evening. Tell me that I am not right."

Elizabeth looked down. She was not sure what had happened. She did not know what to say.

"Charlotte… I did have a pleasant evening, but I do not think there is anything to share."

"La! I saw Mr. Darcy's attentions to you. I saw you blush more than once. And I saw him laugh! Mr. Darcy laughed! A thing I did not think was possible. What is going on, Lizzy?"

"I have not made sense of it myself, Charlotte. Please, I am not keeping anything from you. I am just as astonished as you are, believe me. He can be so reserved and severe at one moment, and then charming and delightful the next."

Charlotte thought for a moment. "His cousin is all light and easy. Perhaps having Colonel Fitzwilliam around helps Mr. Darcy to be himself."

"Perhaps," admitted Elizabeth.

"I have not forgot that Mr. Darcy's eyes were always fixed on you in Hertfordshire, Lizzy. He singled you out to dance at the Netherfield ball, and his attentions were all on you this evening… Did you see any of him when you were in London?"

Elizabeth did not want to meet her gaze, but Charlotte stared once again, until Elizabeth could bear it no more.

"I saw Mr. Darcy, his cousin, and Miss Darcy frequently in London. I danced with him at a ball. He called at my uncle's house with his sister, and I called frequently on Miss Darcy before I came back for Jane's wedding," she confessed.

"Did Mr. Darcy treat you in the same manner in London, as he did this evening?" Charlotte carefully questioned.

Elizabeth nodded quietly.

"Lizzy! He is obviously in love with you!"

"Hush, Charlotte! He is not. There are other factors at play here. As charming as he was this evening, that man has a temper that I cannot trust. And Charlotte, he would never think of me. He could not… not after…" Elizabeth broke off and could not continue.

Charlotte saw that something was distressing Elizabeth. She sat closer to her friend and put her arm around her.

"What is it, Lizzy? Why would Mr. Darcy not think of you?"

Elizabeth had not told one soul. Only Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were in on the secret, but she never had to utter a word to them. Now here was Charlotte, full of compassion and concern for her. How could Elizabeth not share what has been caught up in her chest for weeks now?

But she could not do it. She could not tell Charlotte her distress. Elizabeth had never given it words. Words would somehow give what happened a new life. She was afraid words would make Mr. Wickham reappear. And she did not, once again, feel his vindictive lips on hers. Not tonight. She looked up at Charlotte.

"Our spheres are very different ones, Charlotte. He does not want a country bride of little means. He means to make an advantageous alliance. My family and relations must be revolting to him. I must be revolting to him."

Charlotte waited patiently for Elizabeth to finish. "Lizzy, I need you to listen to me. Carefully. If Mr. Darcy had no thoughts of you, if he felt you so far beneath him, there would have been no visit to our cottage so soon, and certainly no dinner invitation. Lady Catherine has never invited Mr. Collins over when family comes. It was obviously at her nephew's request." She looked at Elizabeth in earnest.

"If Mr. Darcy was only being polite, there was no reason to engage you so particularly, Lizzy. You know him better than that."

Charlotte put her finger under Elizabeth's chin to make her raise her face. "I heard him tell you that you were a vision tonight. There is no explanation for that, other than cruelty, if he did not mean it."

Elizabeth looked down again.

"Lizzy, do you think that Mr. Darcy is being cruel to you?" Charlotte demanded.

Charlotte waited until Elizabeth was ready.

"Lizzy?"

"No. I do not think Mr. Darcy means to be cruel to me."

"Fine. You have your answer. Now let us just wait and see how this unfolds." She kissed Elizabeth's cold hands and looked at her once more in the eyes.

"If I was not already married, Lizzy, I would ask to borrow that green dress of yours!"


	5. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

After breakfast, Elizabeth set out for a long walk. Charlotte and Maria were going into the village with Mr. Collins, and Elizabeth longed once again for the outdoors.

There was no chance for foul weather, so Elizabeth did not worry about a coat, which would have held her back. There was something about feeling the wind on her bare arms and cheeks, which made her think that she had a slight hint of what it was like to fly.

With the morning sun behind her, she hastened up a steep hill covered in new tender grass. The sod softly gave way under her feet, as she ascended to its peak. Elizabeth escaped from everything once again, trying not to think about a man who has not left her thoughts completely for months now. First out of sheer frustration, and now out of sheer fascination. How could he be like night and day? How could he look so grave one moment, and then so tender and admiring the next? She had thought he was the coldest and hardest person of her acquaintance, but now she considered him almost warm and tender, and she could not settle it completely in her mind.

She reached the peak, and found her way to a fallen log that overlooked a vast valley dotted with sheep. She settled herself on the natural bench and took in her surroundings and regained her breath. The sky stretched out before her, happily meeting the picturesque dale below. The few clouds that were in the sky were making small dark shadows against the various shades of green in the valley. She could smell the cool earth and sod, and hear the carefree bleating of the sheep below. She imagined that they were commenting on how fine a day it was, and answered them in turn.

"Yes, it is a very fine day. That is until someone asks for mutton," she remarked out loud.

"I think it a bit early for mutton, myself…"

Elizabeth started, and almost fell off her perch. She recovered, stood up and swung around to see Mr. Darcy only ten feet away. He was smiling until he realized how startled she was, but still, he only subdued the smile.

"Forgive me, Miss Bennet. I did not mean to startle you." He let his smile loose again, in hopes that he was forgiven.

Elizabeth stared at him, not knowing how she felt about seeing him. She had tried so very hard not to turn her mind to him this morning, and even though she was completely unsuccessful, she realized now, that she did not do him justice. He was tall, athletic, and handsome to be sure, but his deep brown eyes were softer than she remembered, and had specks of amber in them. His face was angular, but kind, and his thick head of hair was boyish with curls, when it grew in length.

With the sunlight behind him, his dark hair had hints of red in it, and added to his warmth. She had questioned it before, but the answer was, "Yes." Mr. Darcy was warm. Elizabeth took in a deep breath.

"I am just returning to Rosings. I went to see the sunrise, and found a prime spot that takes in the entire east," he explained almost nervously.

She still stared at him, not being able to say anything.

"It is still early, how long have you been out?" He questioned.

Elizabeth found her tongue. "I have not been out but half an hour, sir."

"Miss Bennet, do you mind if I join you?" he asked with the same smile he had at dinner.

Her head started to swim with conflict. There was a time when she wanted to be alone with him. A time where she was ready to ambush him, and pull him from his horse. When she could ask him question after question without an audience, but that was before Wickham. That was before she was ruined in this gentleman's eyes.

"Sir, I do not think it prudent…"

Darcy's face changed to pure concern. "Miss Bennet, please know that I would never do anything to compromise you. Never in a million years."

"No, that has already been done, Mr. Darcy, as you well know. I cannot afford to even give off the appearance of impropriety."

"That is exactly what I wish to speak with you about, Miss Bennet. Please give me just a few minutes to relay something to you, that will not only explain my behavior to my sister, but will also explain why I feel responsible for what happened to you."

Elizabeth looked up at him surprised. What could he possibly mean? How can those two incidents be connected? How could he possibly feel responsible for what Wickham did to her? She was desirous to know, but she was even more concerned about being found alone with him.

"Please, Mr. Darcy, can this happen another time, in a more appropriate venue?" she pleaded.

Darcy kept his distance. "There in no appropriate venue, Miss Bennet. It is impossible to talk to you frankly, without several pairs of eyes and ears viewing and hearing everything."

He looked kindly at her. "Are you afraid of me, Miss Bennet?"

She took in another deep breath.

"I am not afraid of you, Mr. Darcy. I am only afraid of what will happen if a field hand, or a woodsman happens upon us. Your aunt will be seriously displeased, and I do not think she would even spare _your_ ear this time." She managed a small smile, as did Mr. Darcy.

They stood in silence for a few seconds. Darcy understood her completely, although when he thought about the consequences of being discovered alone with her, he saw nothing unpleasant about them.

The sight of Elizabeth, standing with the sun shining down on her, was just as powerful as her baptism in the downpour. Her eyes were turquoise, a perfect mixture of earth and sky, a marriage of the valley and firmament behind her. Her face flushed from her walk, her chestnut hair shining almost golden from the rays, loosely piled on top of her head, made him feel for the very first time, that he understood fully what poetry was—what inspired men to write with such passion, fervor, tenderness and intensity. He could now see and understand wholly what incited men to war, what caused them to become the hero, and what drove them to disaster, and utter madness. He saw it, he smelled it, tasted it, felt it. Elizabeth was all of it, embodied in flesh in front of him.

Elizabeth looked back up at him, and reached in her pocket and pulled out a letter.

"This is a letter from my sister, Jane. I can say that it fell out of my pocket during my walk. If you would be so kind to return it to me with one of your own tucked inside, explaining what ever you would like, I would be most grateful to read it, Mr. Darcy." She held the letter out toward him.

"You, undeniably, are the sun today, Miss Bennet." Darcy said with a small smile. He stepped forward and collected the letter, and stepped back again.

Elizabeth smiled at the reference to the Latin verse she uttered months ago, and Darcy could feel that he wanted to voice more than he should, but he did not want to distress the lady any further. It probably was best if they part. Soon.

"I really must be going," she said, as she prepared to leave.

"No, Miss Bennet. Let me be the one to leave. As I stated, I have been out all morning and was just returning. Enjoy your walk, Madam, and thank you." He bowed and left.

*

During afternoon tea, a bell rang at the rectory door.

"I wonder who could be calling upon us, Mr. Collins." Charlotte smiled, as she positioned herself to receive guests. Mr. Collins looked up from his book, also wondering who might appear.

Elizabeth had told no one of her encounter, and tried not to look panicked when the door to the parlor opened. She was able to catch her breath, when a servant came in and curtsied.

"The gentleman, Mr. Darcy, delivered this." She held up a letter. "He said that he came across it on a path, and could see that it belonged to Miss Bennet. He did not stay, but wished a good afternoon to all."

She crossed the room and handed Elizabeth the heavy letter.

"Thank you, Ellie," Elizabeth said, as she took the letter turning it over in her hands. "Now I will not have to retrace my steps as I was planning," she stated, with feigned relief. She tucked the letter into her pocket, hoping that no one would remark on the thickness of it.

"It is unfortunate that Mr. Darcy could not stay," Charlotte mentioned, as she shot Elizabeth a look that no one else but Elizabeth noticed.

"My dear Charlotte, that gentleman is a very busy man, with much to occupy his time and mind. Cousin Elizabeth is very fortunate that he took the time at all to bother with such an insignificant thing as a lost letter. He could have easily sent a servant to deliver it. However, he would always be a very welcome guest here, as I would see to it myself that he was adequately entertained. I flatter myself, that I have plenty of knowledge and mental resources to keep pace with a great man, such as that." And then the parson started listing all the things that he could introduce into a conversation, with such a prominent guest and landowner. Elizabeth had lost interest even before he reached the sparkling subject of "manure."

Elizabeth knew that if she excused herself at that moment, she would raise the suspicions of Charlotte, who was already on high alert. She finished tea, helped Maria with a word puzzle, and then made her way up to her room.

Her hands trembled as she opened the letter. A smaller, but thicker note dropped out. It simply said "Miss Elizabeth Bennet" on the outside. She put aside Jane's letter and picked up the new one. She took a breath, broke the seal, and opened it.

_Dear Miss Bennet,_

_Please forgive me once again for my inconsiderate behavior this morning. Believe me when I say that my last wish would be to distress you._

_The purpose of this letter, is to bring to light the motivations behind a certain painful event, which in turn will tie tightly to another. _

_I must start first, with my shocking behavior towards my most beloved sister. When you understand what mortification I was under, maybe you will find it in your heart to forgive me, as Georgiana has already done._

The room was almost spinning, as Elizabeth read about his long and most painful history with Wickham. She took in a shocked breath when she realized that Wickham had planned to elope with Georgiana just last summer. Poor dear Georgiana! She could not but help but also think of Miss King, and her recent escape.

_You see, Miss Bennet, my father's will was drawn up to make sure that a fortune hunter could not prey on her. Georgiana was but fifteen, and was completely heartbroken when Wickham easily left her side, once he found out that she would not inherit, if she eloped. I did not see him again, until that day in Meryton with you as a witness._

_Miss Bennet, I had been in Meryton the very morning you went on your walk with Georgiana, and overheard Wickham talking about going out into the countryside on foot with mischief in mind. You may be able to see now, how distressed I was when I found out that both of you were out there, and could very likely run into him. Georgiana was unaware that Wickham resided nearby. I had spared her from that pain._

_Please forgive my rash behavior, Miss Bennet. I was just as concerned about you being out there alone, but I could see that there was no talking you into my carriage—not after my unforgivable behavior. It crushed me to know that I offended you, and it has eaten at me ever since, to not be able to explain myself without exposing Georgiana._

_Now, as you can see the connection between that, and another event--I have another deeper apology, and it goes to my very core. If I had not thought it beneath myself to expose Wickham for the unscrupulous person that he was, you would not have found yourself in his confidence, and have befriended him. He would not have taken any liberties with you, Miss Bennet, and I have to confess again, that it is all my fault, and I feel it fully._

_Your tears, your distress, and your misery have weighed heavily on me since that day, and I ask you to please forgive me. Please forgive my pride and my reserve. Forgive my great error in judgment that exposed you to such a man, and caused you so much pain. You cannot imagine how many sleepless nights I have had, wrestling with my conscience on this matter. _

_I thank God that I have been given the chance to explain myself, and to throw myself on your mercy, Miss Bennet. I came to Rosings for the very purpose of seeing and being near you. And if your mercy and forgiveness are bestowed, please know that I have every intention to rectify the entire situation. I will make it my mission to see you happy and taken care of, for the rest of your life._

_If your pain is too great, and the thought of me, and what you have suffered because of me, is too much for you to bear, then I fully understand and will bother you no further. I wish God's great blessings on you and your family, Madam. _

_I remain, your most humble servant and ardent admirer,_

_Fitzwilliam Darcy_

_P.S. One look from you at the coming dinner at Rosings, will tell me of your forgiveness or not. _

Elizabeth could not breathe. There was not enough air in the room. There was not enough air in the entire country for her to take in. She got up and opened her window. She tried to concentrate of filling her lungs and nothing more. She took in three long, deep breaths, and wondered if her legs were still below her, since she could feel them no more. She looked down, and she smiled at the constant of her feet still being attached. For everything else in her life was in tremendous flux.

She looked out the window again. From her room she could see a section of Rosings, and she could not help but wonder if Mr. Darcy were behind the very stones she was staring at. After several minutes of staring, of wondering, Elizabeth thought it would be best to tear herself from the window, and read the letter again, and again.

Each time she read it, she was struck by how unobservant she was. She considered herself a student of human character, and thought herself astute to understanding those around her, yet how very blind she had been! Mr. Darcy was protecting his sister, not controlling her. Mr. Wickham was afraid of Mr. Darcy for good reason--thus the white face in Meryton when he ran into Mr. Darcy, and his absence from the Netherfield ball. The light drove the darkness away. Why could she not see that?

More painful than accepting the attentions of Mr. Wickham, was the realization that Mr. Darcy was not the stoic, unfeeling monster she had once thought. If anything, he was brimming with emotion. His frequent stares were not filled with criticism. His lack of conversation was not because he was disinterested. Mr. Darcy said nothing around her, not because he disapproved, but because his mind was too full of things he could not find words for. And if he had, he would not be able to express them in the presence of others.

But he was saying things now. Elizabeth read the line over and over again. "_I will make it my mission to see you happy and taken care of for the rest of your life." _Was it not clear?

She started to read the letter yet again, but a knock on her door caused her to look up.

"Yes?"

The door opened and Charlotte entered, with a note in her hand. She read without looking up.

"What do you think, Lizzy? We have been invited again to dinner at Rosings tomorrow. I guess we know whom to thank for that," she said smiling, and then looked at her friend.

Elizabeth was sitting on her bed--still holding the letter--and had such a look on her face! Charlotte could not understand it for the life of her, but it smacked of shock and disbelief.

"What ever is it, Lizzy? Is Jane all right? What is the matter?"

Charlotte closed the door and came to Elizabeth's side.

"Lizzy is Jane all right? Is it Mr. Bingley? Is he ill?" Elizabeth said nothing. Charlotte took her friend's shoulders and shook her gently.

"The letter is not from Jane," Elizabeth admitted quietly. Charlotte's eyes grew large as she looked down at the letter, written in a fine gentleman's hand. Charlotte gasped, and looked back at Elizabeth.

"Mr. Darcy?"

Elizabeth met her gaze and nodded. Charlotte let go of Elizabeth, and covered her own mouth. This was the most amazing turn! She could hardly contain herself. She sat next to Lizzy on her bed.

"My heart is about to give out, Lizzy! Please tell me what it says!" Charlotte begged.

It was time. It was time to tell Charlotte what happened, and Elizabeth took a deep breath.

Charlotte did her best to keep her countenance, as Elizabeth related to her the entire account. Words were finally put to the event that she prayed fervently to forget, but as the encounter poured forth—Wickham's words, the darkness that took over him, his actions, her flight, and her rescue. Elizabeth felt relieved. It was almost like handing her burden to someone else to carry for a while. She felt lighter now. She related her shivering state, and the ride back to Longbourn gathered safely in Mr. Darcy's arms. She finished her story, then handed an astounded Charlotte the letter.

"I have been so stupid, Charlotte. Stupid, blind and reckless. I am heartily ashamed of myself."

Charlotte slowly took the letter, and read it in its entirety to herself. Elizabeth stayed calm, and practiced breathing while Charlotte finished.

When she did finish, Charlotte sat still as a stone next to Elizabeth, with the letter in her lap. Elizabeth waited, but her friend said nothing. She simply stared at the wall. Finally, Charlotte looked at her friend. Elizabeth was surprised to see tears in her soft brown eyes.

"He loves you, Lizzy. Oh, how he loves you," she said softly.

"Are you certain he just does not mean to give me some money to make amends, and to raise our family's fortune?"

Charlotte stood up almost angrily. "How dare you belittle what this man has said, and what he has gone through, Lizzy! He has taken everything you have suffered upon himself!"

She knelt in front of Elizabeth. "He means to take care of you personally, for the rest of your life, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and for the rest of his."

"Is it that clear?" Elizabeth still was not sure.

"Yes, my dear. It is _that_ clear." She reached up and wrapped her dearest Lizzy in an embrace. She whispered in her ear. "I never thought I would live to see the day when Elizabeth Bennet was the stupidest person around."

She gave her a swift kiss on the cheek, and knelt down before her again.

"Now, all he has to do is ask officially."

The next day, Charlotte and Elizabeth made preparations. The former promised to distract Lady Catherine as much as possible short of fainting, and even thought up topics she could induce Mr. Collins to take up with her ladyship.

But even fainting was a possibility for Charlotte, who could not be happier for her friend. She was surprising herself on how romantic she had become, but it was not due to her own marriage… or maybe it was. Charlotte was not certain, but there was a great possibility that she was with child. The idea frightened and elated her at the same time. She was not ill at the sight of food, but she was easily tired. The rush of emotions that she felt constantly for the past few weeks flustered her, and Elizabeth was receiving the full force of them.

Even though they knew Mr. Darcy would not be making any proposals at dinner, Charlotte felt it was important that they were left to talk alone as much as possible, and she would do everything in her power to facilitate it. Elizabeth felt excited and sickened if she thought about it too much.

Elizabeth was to borrow Charlotte's ivory gown that had pink rose buds sewn onto the ribbons that went around the waist, and circled and then hung from the sleeves. It was simple silk, but it was elegant, and cast a lovely sheen in the candlelight. It also flattered Elizabeth's slender figure, and contrasted well with her dark hair and black lashes.

Even though she was not in on the secret, Maria was to help Elizabeth with her hair. Charlotte also thought it fortunate that Lady Catherine's carriage would be sent for them, since it threatened rain all day.

Nothing was left to do, except to attend the dinner. The carriage came, and the four from the parsonage were taken down the lane and to the great house. Charlotte gave Elizabeth's hand a squeeze before they stepped out.

Darcy did not know what to do with himself. First, he stood near the doorway, but then decided he was too close, and found another place to stand, but then thought that was too close to Lady Catherine. Fitzwilliam shook his head at his cousin, telling him that he was drawing attention to himself, but it was too late.

"Darcy, what is wrong with you?" Lady Catherine demanded. "You will not stay still."

Darcy glanced at Fitzwilliam before he answered. "I apologize, Lady Catherine, I felt a draft over by the door, and thought this would be more comfortable."

"Yes, the halls are drafty. You know that, nephew. I have always been jealous of Pemberly, only because you do not have such issues," she admitted. "Anne would be better off at Pemberly, and I am sure that her health would improve greatly there."

"You both are welcome to stay at Pemberly any time, Aunt. I am planning on being there this summer with Georgiana."

"Ah, little Georgiana. Does she still play well? Has she improved?"

"Yes, she continues to study, and plays very well. I am planning on buying her a new pianoforte as a gift, when we are together again."

"It has been a long time since I have seen your sister, Darcy. How old is she, now? Sixteen? When will she be presented at court? I am very attentive to things like that, you know."

Darcy was poised to answer when the doors swung open. Mr. Collins and Charlotte stood next to each other, and Elizabeth and Maria were behind them. The footman came forward and bowed.

"Mr. and Mrs. Collins, Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas," he announced. He then bowed once more and let the guests enter. Charlotte and Mr. Collins entered first, followed by Elizabeth and Maria.

Elizabeth's face grew hot as she entered. She knew not where to look. Charlotte instructed her to greet Lady Catherine first, and then find Mr. Darcy while Lady Catherine was still busy with her guests. Elizabeth followed the Collinses in, not looking to the left or right. She could make out figures from the corner of her eyes, but she kept focused on Lady Catherine, and Anne.

She made a curtsey, and Charlotte immediately asked boldly if Lady Catherine would have an opinion on whether a side of pork or hind quarter would be better suited for her to order from the butcher. Lady Catherine was decidedly distracted.

Elizabeth breathed in and turned to find a seat, and more. She turned in the direction of Colonel Fitzwilliam first, and caught a very measured and gracious smile on his face, and he bowed deeply.

"Miss Bennet," he simply said.

She curtsied to him and continued in her search. A few feet away from Colonel Fitzwilliam stood Mr. Darcy. She immediately caught her breath. His face was admiring, yet concerned. She wanted to put him at ease as soon as she could, but her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest, that she was sure everyone in the room would turn, to ascertain what it was. She was not one to swoon, but she felt very equal to it at that moment. She stared at him, not able to move, or to smile. She tried to keep from falling over.

Darcy's eyes took in hers. Her eyes were ocean blue, with a circle of green around them, but they were frightened, he determined. Elizabeth was pale, and the smile that he waited for did not appear. The soft look that he had anticipated did not come. Darcy understood in an instant. _She could not forgive him._ _She meant to reject him._ He bowed quickly to cover his immeasurable disappointment.

Elizabeth quickly found a seat before she came tumbling down. She knew she needed to rectify the situation, but thought it was better for her to be safe from fainting first. She was seated and looked back over at Darcy who was looking to the other side of the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam, however, was looking right at her with questioning eyes. She looked back at him helplessly.

"You look pale, Miss Bennet. Would you like some refreshment?"

"Yes, indeed. I do think the change from the cool evening, to this warm room has had an effect on me," she answered with a weak voice, but gratefully.

"Darcy, will you please get Miss Bennet a glass of wine? I will see if the other ladies are in a similar state." Fitzwilliam quickly moved toward Maria and Charlotte.

Without looking at Elizabeth, Darcy moved toward the wine table. A servant was quick to hand him two glasses, which he took and made his way toward Elizabeth. He was in the depths, and was too numb to even be angry at his cousin, for making him wait on the lady who just rejected him. He brought Elizabeth the wine.

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," she said, as he turned to walk away. He turned back, and bowed slightly without looking directly at her.

"I also wanted to thank you for finding and delivering my letter today."

He started at her words, and cautiously looked at her face, which was now turning pink and covered in a warm smile.

"I had despaired that I would ever see it again, for I like to read my letters over and over again. They give me such comfort, especially when I am so far from home," she continued almost breathlessly.

He let her words sink in, and felt his own smile break across his face. This was all too good. He thought his chest was going to burst with all of the feelings that swelled within it.

"Did you find this particular letter comforting, Miss Bennet?" he managed to ask.

Elizabeth looked up at him with all graciousness and affection.

"Yes, sir. Even though there was a time of foul weather for them, I found this particular letter to be filled with reports of happiness and great felicity. It is a great comfort to me to know that… Jane is so happy."

Darcy had to look away for a moment, because he was so overwhelmed with gratitude. Colonel Fitzwilliam had seen the exchange, and like Charlotte, was afraid that his aunt would see the sparks that were flying as if from a bonfire on that side of the room, so he came to join them.

"Miss Bennet, I understand you are quite a walker," Fitzwilliam teased as he came to stand next to Darcy. Both Darcy and Elizabeth smiled, as they knew they would have to put up with the good Colonel's antics all evening long.

"Yes, Colonel. I do enjoy a good walk. Am I to understand that you heard of my wayward letter from my sister?" she looked up at him archly, and almost recovered.

"I did hear of it. I hope that everything is set straight now, Miss Bennet." He looked between both of them as he sipped his own wine.

"I am happy to have received it," she said perfectly at ease.

"Capital. Excellent… Glad to hear it," he effused as he smiled, and shot Darcy looks. Darcy, finally feeling equal to speak unaffected, joined in the conversation.

"Have you ever been to Bath yourself, Miss Bennet?"

"No, sir, I have not, though Jane has promised to have me join them next time they go. I should very much like to see the Roman baths."

"Do we dare tell Miss Bennet of our adventures in the Roman baths, Cousin?" Fitzwilliam looked at Darcy, who smiled back, relieved to have his assistance, since his mind was still decidedly distracted.

The Colonel continued. "You may find it difficult to believe, with the two of us standing before you, appearing very respectable and quite proper, that as lads, we were continually getting into scrapes together."

Elizabeth's eyes danced. "I do not find that difficult at all to believe. Tell me, did this 'adventure' involve swimming betwixt some stranger's legs, or was it something even more sinister?"

"Darcy!" Lady Catherine bellowed. "You will escort Anne to dinner."

All three smiled as if they were caught playing Hide-and-Go-Seek. Darcy looked over at Elizabeth and quietly said, "I hope that we will be able to speak again later, Miss Bennet."

He bowed, never breaking his gaze. He then turned, to satisfy his aunt. Colonel Fitzwilliam was left standing next to Elizabeth suppressing his own great smile.

"Fitzwilliam! I am waiting for you!" Lady Catherine called.

The Colonel smiled and bowed to Elizabeth. "I better go, before she grabs my ear."

Elizabeth sat in between Colonel Fitzwilliam and Charlotte, and directly across my Mr. Collins. Mr. Darcy was still close by, but not in direct line of conversation, as Lady Catherine did bend his ear quite a bit, and tried to get him to talk with Anne, who sat next to him. She heard Anne speak on the subject of bees, and thought she heard her say that a hive reminded her very much of town, to which Darcy smiled politely, and said that he liked the metaphor. He then took a drink from his glass and looked over at her, catching her eye.

For the first time, Elizabeth did not feel the need to look away from him. Her heart picked up in beats, but she maintained the gaze, and a tremendous warmth spread all over her_. "He was warm," _she told herself again. They continued the gaze for several seconds, until Charlotte interrupted.

"Be careful, Lizzy. Lady Catherine has eyes like a hawk," she warned in a whisper between bites, and without looking directly at her.

Elizabeth nodded in understanding, feeling the loss of his eyes the moment she looked away.

"Do you think you will be able to swell a song this evening, my friend?" Charlotte bated, her voice louder.

"I have resigned myself to it, knowing that I will be ordered to, no matter how I feel about it," answered Elizabeth.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam?" Charlotte addressed around Elizabeth. "Should you turn pages for my dear friend after dinner? For she has been easily persuaded to sing and play for us this evening."

"It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Collins. Let us entreat Darcy to pick out the music, for he has excellent taste," he stated slyly.

"Yes, my nephew has inherited his excellent taste in music from his mother's side of the family, as has Georgiana and Anne. His mother and I had great appreciation for music, although she chose to play, to gratify herself. Even though I saw no need to learn an instrument, I always found that I had a great gift of treasuring music, and am quite certain I would have been the superior player," Lady Catherine surmised.

To this Mr. Collins had many observations on her ladyship's matchless taste and musical comprehension, which effectively distracted the great lady, and gave Elizabeth the chance to turn to Charlotte.

"What a friend you are! I said nothing about singing," Elizabeth complained.

"Miss Bennet, do not censure Mrs. Collins, for I was preparing to ask for a song this evening, as I know you are quite capable of it. I assure you that none of us will regret the opportunity of hearing you both in keys and voice," Mr. Darcy stated with alacrity.

Elizabeth finished her song with sincere applause from nearly everyone in the room. Lady Catherine clapped a little, but could not help but to say loudly to Mrs. Jenkinson and Anne, who were sitting near her, that even though Elizabeth's voice was not as weak as she had expected, she felt it was too clear and sweet, and needed to be rounder with more vibrato, to make it truly elegant.

Colonel Fitzwilliam escorted her back to her seat next to Maria.

"Lizzy, you played and sang so very well! How I wish I could be as accomplished as you," Maria enthused.

"Maria, you and I both know that I am not accomplished. I merely had the opportunity to practice, and you should play just as well, if you spent a little less time on your bonnets, or in the company of my youngest sisters," Elizabeth answered.

She saw Mr. Darcy looking at her, smiling from where he was sitting. She felt her face redden, but she smiled back, and then turned her attention on Charlotte, who was very pleased with the way the evening was turning out. She and Mr. Collins were able to claim much of her ladyship's attention, and even Colonel Fitzwilliam would engage her in conversation here and there.

The evening was wrapping up and Lady Catherine ordered her carriage for the guests. Charlotte grabbed the opportunity to ask Lady Catherine what she thought about Mr. Collins planting potatoes behind the cottage since they were not a very pretty plant.

Seeing that Mrs. Collins had successfully distracted his aunt, Darcy came near Elizabeth, who was alone.

"Miss Bennet, may I call upon you at Hunsford tomorrow?" He seemed nervous, but in good spirits. Elizabeth could see that Colonel Fitzwilliam was also watching and positioning himself just so, to make sure that Lady Catherine would not see them talking by themselves.

"Certainly, Mr. Darcy," she answered smiling, but with her heart pounding.

Darcy waited a few seconds, shifted his weight and added, "Is it too much to ask… to request a private audience with you tomorrow, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth took a sudden breath. His eyes reached into hers, and this time she was willing to give them anything they wanted to pull out. If he asked for her very last breath, she would have given it freely.

"Of course," she answered in almost a whisper. "I will see to it that we are alone."

And with her answer, that familiar and heartbreaking smile broke out on his face, with no pretense, no reserve and no fear. That smile made her feel safe, it made her insides liquefy, and it made her long for tomorrow. Elizabeth wanted that smile to burn into her memory right then, so she would be able to recall it a hundred times tonight, when she lay wide awake upon her bed. She returned his smile, but it was mostly a smile of awe and wonder.

"Cousin Elizabeth! We must be going. Do not bother Mr. Darcy with your prattle," Mr. Collins lectured loudly from across the room.

Darcy immediately came to her defense.

"Mr. Collins, do not assume that Miss Bennet has nothing of benefit to say. You are quite wrong, and owe her an apology. I assure you, sir, that she has not bothered me. It would be more correct to say that I have bothered Miss Bennet, for I have kept her from your party." Darcy turned his gaze back at her and bowed without breaking his gaze. "My apologies to you, Miss Bennet."

Mr. Collins was stunned at the gentleman's swift reproof, and tried to recover. "Please excuse me, Mr. Darcy. Of course my dear cousin would not bother you." He turned to bow to Elizabeth as well "Forgive me, Cousin Elizabeth."

Everyone in the room was listening to the exchange. Charlotte and Fitzwilliam were assessing Lady Catherine, who was looking at the pair severely.

Elizabeth answered as quickly as she could. "Not at all, Mr. Collins. You know me very capable of unpleasant speeches." She smiled, curtsied to Mr. Darcy and made her way across the room. She felt Lady Catherine's heavy stare on her, and did her best to act unaffected.

Charlotte grabbed Elizabeth's hand in the dark carriage, and held it tightly until they arrived in front of the parsonage.


	6. Chapter 9

All I can say, as I move to hide behind my couch from all of you, is that I promise a very happy ending. So, you can probably guess that more angst is on the way. Deal with it people (she says with deep affection...). :0) Enjoy the roller coaster ride. Grab the safety bar, and hold on tight. We can fix our hair when it's all over.

CHAPTER NINE

Elizabeth could hear birds starting to twitter and peep outside her window, and see the first light appearing. She had not slept at all. Charlotte's raptures last night took even Elizabeth by surprise. She did not think her stoic friend capable of any great show of emotion, yet Charlotte was almost beside herself with happiness. Elizabeth could only imagine it was because she was homesick. Charlotte would contrive to get Mr. Collins out of the house early, and would not worry about Maria, since she would sleep til half past eleven and would not stir downstairs for another hour after that. She helped Elizabeth pick out a dress, and ran downstairs to press it herself before she finally retired and left Elizabeth alone with her thoughts.

There was no reason to lie down any longer, now that it was getting light. Elizabeth sat up and thought she might light a candle and read, or start a letter to Jane that she could finish _after_ a certain person called. She was hoping that her eyes would not give away that she had a sleepless night, but after all, it was a good sleepless night. Her thoughts during the night were so unmanageable, so wonderful that she could not rein herself in. She gave in to where ever her mind took her: his smile, they way the wind played with his hair as he faced her and the valley, and the next thing she knew, she could make out the shapes of things in her room. It was morning.

Elizabeth had just put her slippers on when she heard the front door. No one would be calling at this time. Certainly not Mr. Darcy. She looked outside to see a horse or a carriage, but there were none. Voices started to come up in volume and another door slammed.

All Elizabeth could surmise, was that there was a drunk servant being dealt with by Mr. Collins. Elizabeth felt it safer to stay in her room, although she could hear Charlotte now. Mr. Collins should shield his wife from such confrontations.

Suddenly, Elizabeth could hear _her_. The distinct booming voice carried up the stairs and barged its way through her door. Lady Catherine was in the parsonage! Elizabeth could not imagine what would possess that lady to disrupt this house at such an early hour. What rudeness! Her mother was all gentleness and ease next to this woman.

"It will happen just as I say, Mrs. Collins!" her voice thundered from underneath the door.

"Your ladyship, can we not talk about this in the parlor?" Charlotte begged.

"Absolutely not!! I will not be delayed! You will comply with my wishes, or I will attend to it myself!"

Elizabeth could not bear it any longer. She opened her door and walked to the top of the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs were Lady Catherine, Mr. Collins and Charlotte. Charlotte, still in her nightclothes, blocked the stairs bodily, and Mr. Collins, also in his nightclothes, wrung his hands and tried to think of something to say.

"Lady Catherine, please, as your rector, let me advise you to think on this further. We do not want to do anything that we might regret," he pleaded.

"Regret?! Regret? I will have regretted everything I have done for you Mr. Collins, if your wife does not go upstairs this instant and produce that upstart girl!"

Mr. Collins looked up to see Elizabeth standing there. "Cousin Elizabeth," he said under his breath.

Charlotte spun around and looked up helplessly at her dear friend. She started crying, "Oh Lizzy! I am so sorry!"

"What is it, Charlotte?" Elizabeth was alarmed.

Lady Catherine took up the opportunity in full. "Miss Bennet, you are the problem here! I take it upon myself to entertain the friend of my parson's wife, only to be stabbed in the back. You have come here under false pretences, with a design to take advantage of me, and my dear family!"

"I do not know of what you are speaking, Lady Catherine."

"You selfish girl! Do not put on your elaborate act with me. You disgust me. How you were able to ingratiate yourself to my nephew is beyond me. You might have been practicing more than one art, but I will have none of it here!"

"Lady Catherine, may we speak in the parlor?" Elizabeth asked. "I am certain that it would be more desirous for Mrs. Collins if we could speak privately, and not be bellowing up and down her stairs."

Elizabeth gave one last look at the tear-streaked face of Charlotte and closed the door behind her. Lady Catherine was poised for her attack. Her face was scrunched and screwed with contempt, her substantial body in a stance that hinted of a pounce.

"Do not stand there with this stupid look on your face, Miss Bennet. Explain yourself!"

"I do not know what to explain. Please tell me without riddle what I have done, your ladyship."

"Fine, if you require that I play your game! You are here for the sole purpose to steal my nephew, to take his heart and break it into a thousand pieces. To see him laughed at, and be the object of scorn forever! You want his fortune, Miss Bennet, and you conspired with or without Mrs. Collins to come here and trap him. I know her young sister is too dumb to be in on it."

Why this surprised her, Elizabeth knew not. Of course lady Catherine was omniscient! She had eyes and ears everywhere. Elizabeth was upset, but did not feel the gravity of what was happening. She thought she was only seeing a fit that would soon disperse, similar to those her mother displayed daily. Whatever Lady Catherine felt and said, it would not matter, once Mr. Darcy came to call on her. All would be forgotten.

While the lady ranted, Elizabeth wondered who was the traitor, and wagered it was the sheep that turned them in. She would have mutton without any regret from now on.

Elizabeth kept her head about her, as she waited for the lady to finish.

"You are wrong, Lady Catherine. I had no idea of Mr. Darcy or Colonel Fitzwilliam coming here. Mrs. Collins was quite unaware of the gentlemen coming as well. This trip was planned even before Charlotte was married. Mr. Collins can attest to that. No such plan as you have described has ever existed. I assure you."

"Ha! Listen to your babbling. You have not answered one of my questions. You cannot deny that you intend to take my nephew and make him the laughing stock of the world! Your situation in life is so below his, it is repulsive! I know of your family, your aunts and uncles. What do you have to say to that?"

Elizabeth's anger began to surface. Her pulse started to pound in her ears, and it colored her voice as she defended herself.

"This is the first question you have asked me, Madam. What you uttered previously were hurled insults and accusations. Here is my answer. If your nephew does not object to my situation in life, than it can be nothing to you," Elizabeth retorted.

Lady Catherine's face went red. "You have blinded the boy! He is not seeing clearly. He only sees a pretty face that he will soon come to despise. He cannot see his duty to his family, his station, and he does not see that he would be doing you a great disservice by taking you out of your sphere. You will be over your head as Mistress of Pemberly. You will fail under such a massive responsibility. A vulgar country girl, who knows nothing, but how to walk and sing a pretty song. He will expose you to the censure of everyone you come in contact with."

"Lady Catherine, he is a gentleman, and I am a gentleman's daugh--"

Lady Catherine interrupted her. "Mr. Darcy is engaged to my daughter! What do you say to that?"

Elizabeth hesitated, and remembered Wickham mentioning it during the early part of their acquaintance.

"If Mr. Darcy is engaged, then why are you even here? How could you assume he be in danger of me, if he is to marry Miss de Bourgh?"

Lady Catherine paused for a moment, and lowered her voice. "The engagement is of an atypical kind. It has been the sincere wish of their parents since they were infants."

"Once again, Lady Catherine, if Mr. Darcy is engaged, then you have no reason to think that he will make an offer to me."

Lady Catherine pounced. "So, he has not made you an offer of marriage?"

Elizabeth was angry that she let herself fall into that trap. She did not say anything, but could hear Charlotte's muffled sobs behind the door.

"Miss Bennet! Answer me! Has my nephew made you an offer?"

"No, he has not," Elizabeth answered unwillingly.

"And will you make me a promise never to engage yourself to him, if he should ask?"

"I will not make such a promise to you, Lady Catherine."

Lady Catherine's face turned even redder and twisted in such an unnatural way, that Elizabeth could not help but stare at her in alarm. The lady finally opened her eyes and glared at Elizabeth. She lowered her voice, but still used a great amount of force.

"You have one half hour to quit this place, Miss Bennet. I will not extend my hospitality to someone who is intent on ruining my family. Mrs. Collins may protest, but one word from me, and your friend will no longer have a home, and her husband will no longer have a position."

Elizabeth reeled from the threat. She had no idea that this was what Lady Catherine intended all along. She would not hurt Charlotte, and she would not prolong this, so she answered swiftly, without knowing the consequences.

"I will not stay here one more minute to be abused by you. I will pack now."

Elizabeth turned on her heel and left the room. Charlotte met her in the hall, but was held back by Mr. Collins.

"Cousin Elizabeth, my carriage will take you as far as the Bromley post," Mr. Collins offered evenly, without emotion, knowing Lady Catherine would hear. Charlotte covered her face.

Elizabeth leaned in to comfort her friend. "Dear Charlotte, I shall be fine. I will be packed shortly, and this will be all over."

*

Once her trunk was handed out of the carriage, and placed on the ground next to her, Elizabeth looked around. What was she to do? Lady Catherine quit Hunsford while she packed, and Elizabeth assured Charlotte that she would go to straight to Longbourn, but she could not bear to go home now. Not with the Regiment still there, not with Jane still gone. Besides, it would cost a fortune to travel that length by post. She decided right then to go to London, to the Gardiners, and tried not to think of their shock.

"A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi," she quoted to herself. _A precipice in front, wolves behind._

She paid her fare to London, and sat numbly in a corner of the Bromley Inn before the post carriage came. It was not until she was seated next to, and across from three strangers, did Elizabeth feel the full force of what happened to her. Lady Catherine required Charlotte to expel her from under her own roof, and even forbade her to write to Elizabeth in the future, lest they continue their plot. Elizabeth assured Charlotte that she would write via Lady Lucas or Maria once she was back in Longbourn, but did not know how she would manage from London.

Elizabeth did her best to be brave for Charlotte. She had never seen Charlotte as forlorn, as she drove away in the open carriage. Charlotte did not listen to her husband, and saw Elizabeth off with tears and kisses. Elizabeth could see Mr. Collins from an inside window, and did not harbor any resentment toward him. He was naturally weak. Not many people could stand up to lady Catherine, and she would not have Charlotte thrown out of her home.

Elizabeth was very aware of the time. Mr. Darcy would not call at the parsonage until after ten, if he would call at all. He could not have known of Lady Catherine's visit before it happened, but he might know about it now. She could only imagine how angry he would be, and what he would do. He would go to Longbourn. She knew it.

Half the night was spent wondering just what words he would use to ask for her hand. Would he get on one knee? It pained Elizabeth to the point of nausea now to think of it, to think of him. How could she face him now? Elizabeth was more than humiliated. She was mentally exhausted. How many highs and lows she had experienced in just a few short months!

The carriage knocked its occupants to and fro. Elizabeth leaned her head against the corner, away from the strangers. She could hear Lady Catherine's voice echoing in her head. _Elizabeth was a vulgar country girl, she would be his ruin, and he would come to resent her for it._

Elizabeth ran through the rain. She was dressed in her deep green gown, her hair wet and loose down her back. A dark figure in a red coat was waiting in the shadows of the wood. He smiled handsomely, and bid her to come. Elizabeth stopped in horror, and wanted to change her course, but something down the muddy path caught her eye. Mr. Darcy was sitting against the oak, holding her handkerchief, but he did not see her. He saw nothing, for scarlet was rushing from his head, and his body was twisted and broken. A rush of blackbirds startled her awake. She was in London.

Darcy did not even lie down that night. He knew it was pointless. He stayed up late with Fitzwilliam after the ladies retired. They talked over the logistics of his marriage to Elizabeth, what obstacles to overcome, what family they could count on, and those they could not. Darcy knew that Georgiana was all that mattered to him, and she would be thrilled, and had hinted to him on several occasions on how Miss Elizabeth suited him perfectly. What a wise little sister he had. Darcy talked about how the responsibilities of Mistress of Pemberly would be slowly given over to Elizabeth, once she started feeling comfortable with them. But he mostly enthused over the lovely girl who was willing to have him, after all he had done to offend her and drive her away.

While the gentlemen talked freely, Lady Catherine, who had something to discuss with her nephews, stopped short of entering the door when she heard the name "Miss Bennet" used. She listened for as long as she could, and then quietly retreated.

Darcy nervously waited by himself in the parlor at Hunsford cottage. The servant seemed apprehensive and pale when he asked to see Miss Bennet. The doorknob turned, and his heart sputtered wildly, but quieted again when he saw Mrs. Collins enter the room somberly. Her face was flushed and swollen, and she clutched a handkerchief.

Mr. Darcy stood up immediately. "Mrs. Collins. Good day to you."

Charlotte closed the door behind her. "Good day, Mr. Darcy."

She crossed the room and sat down, much to his surprise. He continued to stand not knowing what to say. Her looks caused him concern. Concern about Elizabeth.

"Mrs. Collins, are you quite well?"

"Mr. Darcy, I will answer that with a resounding 'no'. For I am quite miserable right now, and now have to pass that misery on to you."

Darcy took a step toward her. "Is Miss Bennet all right? May I see her?"

"I would tell you to sit, Mr. Darcy, but I doubt if you will. But if you would let me explain, I will get this out as quickly as I can."

Darcy stared at her, waiting for the blow.

"Mr. Darcy, Lady Catherine came to Hunsford before six this morning, and forced my dear friend to leave this place. She accused her in a loud voice of seducing you, of conspiring to get your fortune, and in short, of trying to ruin you forever."

Darcy looked at her in horror and shock. This could not be true, yet he knew it was. His mind started running, and blood boiled in his veins.

"Elizabeth tried to reason with her, but Lady Catherine called her names, and insulted her to every degree. The 'great' lady gave her but a half hour to pack and quit this place, or she would take the living she had provided for Mr. Collins away, and cause us to pack up and leave as well."

Darcy started to pace, and hit his hat against his thigh over and over again.

"We provided our carriage to Elizabeth, but only to deliver her to the Bromley post. Lady Catherine forbade Mr. Collins to accompany her and make sure she was safely transferred." Charlotte started crying again. "She means to go to Longbourn, but at what expense, Mr. Darcy? How can someone so elevated treat another human being in that manner? It is not to be borne, although Elizabeth was comforting me!" She continued to cry.

Darcy finally spoke in a low measured voice. "Mrs. Collins, I am so sorry that you had to be exposed to my aunt's tirade. She is the last person that I would have wanted this information to fall to." He thought for a moment. "You say that Miss Bennet left in your carriage after six?"

"About half past. Our driver is already back, and I am certain that she would have to wait no more than an hour before catching a carriage north to Hertfordshire."

"And you are certain that Miss Elizabeth had enough money for the journey?"

"I pray so, Mr. Darcy. I offered her money. Actually, I begged her to take it, but she kissed me and said that she had more than enough to get home. Oh, Mr. Darcy! How can she be so good in face of such evil? Lady Catherine accused me of conspiring with her, but Elizabeth defended me fiercely, and I could not do anything for her. Excuse me for referring to your aunt as such, but she did do such an evil thing." And Charlotte was taken off again with more fits of tears.

Darcy paced some more and then came to stop in front of Charlotte. "Mrs. Collins, I appreciate you coming to meet me, but I must beg to leave you. I must rectify this situation immediately."

Charlotte looked up with hope. "Mr. Darcy, you will never find a better being than Lizzy. I have never met someone so lovely, so intelligent and brave as her. Please do not let your aunt ruin your happiness."

He bowed. "I will not, Mrs. Collins. Now, if you will excuse me."

And Darcy was out the door.

"Richard!" Darcy roared as he threw his hat and gloves down. "Richard!" He kept calling until he found his cousin still lolling in the breakfast room. Darcy walked in wild-eyed and startled the Colonel.

"What is it, Darcy? You look as if you've killed someone."

"I am not far from entertaining the idea! Lady Catherine found out. I do not know by what means, but she found out about my attachment to Miss Bennet. The woman we call our aunt, came early this morning to the rectory and expelled Miss Bennet from the premises! She made her leave all alone to Bromley, and she is most likely on a post right now to Hertfordshire. Once again, all alone!"

Fitzwilliam stood up, shocked. "Really, Darcy?"

"Where is Lady Catherine?"

"I understand from the housekeeper that she and Anne are out for the morning."

"Of course! She would not want to face me after the cowardly thing she did. Why did she not confront me? Why did she have to go and humiliate Elizabeth?" he fumed and paced.

"Because our aunt is an intelligent creature. She would not be able to stop you from doing anything you set your mind on, Darcy. She did what she knew would work. She is quite cunning in her strategy. England would be sunk if she took up with Napoleon."

"Have a care, Richard! I am leaving for Longbourn, directly. I need to see her as soon as I can. I want to leave within the hour. On horseback. Would you join me?"

"Stand, cousin. Wait for a minute. Why horseback? Even if we arrive tonight, we cannot call at such an hour."

"I will not call on her tonight, but I will first thing tomorrow. I do not want her to think that I have abandoned her for one minute longer than is necessary, Cousin. I need to assure her that she will not be treated like that again."

"But can you make her such a promise, Darcy?"

*

Mrs. Gardiner was fully shocked when Elizabeth stood at the door with her trunk. All Elizabeth could manage to say was, "Please Aunt, I will explain everything in a while. I just need a little time to myself. I need to rest from my journey."

A small knock came at the door, and Elizabeth woke up. It was dark outside and she had no idea what the time was. In fact, she was not sure where she was. The door opened and her aunt appeared holding a lamp. She came to sit upon the bed and placed the lamp on the stand. She stroked her niece's long hair knowingly. Elizabeth felt suddenly sick when everything flooded back. It had not been a nightmare.

"I've ordered a small dinner to be brought up soon, Lizzy. I also wrote an express to your father to tell him that you have come to stay with us for a while at my bidding, to help with the children. I included nothing that will spark any unease or speculation, my dear. Your mother will either look on the express as having great affection for you, or as flaunting our money, but either way, they will know you are safe." She continued to stroke Lizzy's hair.

"Thank you, Aunt."

Mrs. Gardiner looked at her face, still wet with tears. "Did you have a good cry, my love?"

Elizabeth nodded.

"And just when do you think you will finally let me into that pretty head of yours, Lizzy? I can assure you that I will comfort and protect you, for you are more than a niece. You are like a sister to me, my dearest. And I want nothing more than your happiness."

Elizabeth sat up and looked at her aunt, who took a strand of her hair and placed it away from her face. _How did she keep finding herself at the sharp edge of these nightmares?_ Elizabeth did not know whether to blame herself, Mr. Wickham, or even Lady Catherine for her troubles. If she would just quit walking, nothing would ever have happened! Mr. Darcy would never have been injured, she would have never run into Wickham alone, poor Georgiana would not have been frightened by her own brother, and Elizabeth would never had gotten a letter from him needing to explain his behavior. Elizabeth could not take the weight of it alone any more. The tears came once again.

"Oh, Aunt!" Elizabeth cried, and she managed to relate the entire sordid story between sobs.

The next morning Elizabeth came down to breakfast with the Gardiner family. She was able to sleep even longer after her nap, and her long talk with her aunt. Mrs. Gardiner was dumbfounded and incensed by the treatment of her favorite. She, like Elizabeth, was certain that Mr. Darcy would go after her to Longbourn, and felt it was a good thing that she did send an express, for what would the Bennet's do when they heard from Mr. Darcy that Lizzy was missing?

The matter of Mr. Darcy concerned Mrs. Gardiner greatly, for Elizabeth had no wish to see him, at least not for now. There was no talking to her in such a state, so she let her niece alone for now. She needed time to sleep, to cry some more, but she would soon make her see that hearing from Mr. Darcy would be the only way for her to get over her current grief.

Elizabeth remarked as soon as she entered the breakfast room, how wonderful it smelled, and how hungry she was. Her young cousins were thrilled to see her, but were warned by their mother not to hang all over her for now, that she was tired and needed to rest. Bertram still managed to climb up into her lap and insist that she share her toast, which she did happily, as she kissed his rosy cheek.

Breakfast at Longbourn was much less jolly. Kitty and Lydia were grieving over the news that the militia would be moving to Brighton at the end of May. Mrs. Bennet, since the wedding was over, and Jane at Bath, had nothing to occupy her mind or her nerves. So she kept after the girls for any minor infraction. Mr. Bennet was out of humor all together, in the absence of the only two in his household who spoke any sense. He did his best to always have something between himself and the current residents of the house. A book, a glass of brandy, a sharp letter opener… This morning, it was the London Times.

"I do not see why my sister-in-law had to send an express, Mr. Bennet. I thought I should have a heart attack when the knock came at our door last night. Only bad news comes that late in the evening. My nerves will never be the same. We could have found out just as easily tomorrow that Lizzy quit Hunsford and came to stay with them," Mrs. Bennet complained. "I think that sometimes, Maggie means to flaunt the fine style in which she lives with my brother. I think it more desirable if he had not married at all. My nerves certainly would be better this morning if he had not."

"Do not you think it curious that Lizzy left Charlotte early? And to help with our cousins?" asked Kitty.

"Maybe she could not stand one more minute with that odious Mr. Collins. I know I would not. How he must put everyone to sleep! I never slept so much as when he was with us all those months ago. Every time he opened a book to read aloud, my eyes glazed over," added Lydia.

"I think it kind that Lizzy went to help the Gardiners. She left behind pleasure with a friend, to help another in need. We should all practice self-denial. It is essential to the soul," expounded Mary.

"Maybe that was it. Maybe she absolutely regretted seeing how Charlotte lived, and knew all that could have been hers, and Longbourn soon enough. Maybe it made her miserable," wondered Mrs. Bennet out loud.

Mr. Bennet put his paper down. "Maybe, my dear Mrs. Bennet, our daughter went to London to visit the Gardiners. Period."

He stood up and left the room for his study.

Later in the morning, the Bennet's received two gentlemen callers. Mrs. Bennet could not fathom why Mr. Darcy would show up with his cousin, who was a stranger to all, but whom the youngest Miss Bennets were smitten with. Mrs. Bennet greeted him graciously, since he was a dear friend of her new son-in-law, but sat there stupidly with her three remaining daughters until Darcy finally spoke.

"We were both hoping to see Miss Elizabeth, is she well?"

Mrs. Bennet looked around. "Mr. Darcy, Miss Elizabeth is not with us. She has already been gone these three weeks."

Darcy looked over at Fitzwilliam and back at the lady of the house.

"We understood that she would be home from Kent by now." Darcy was getting nervous that she never made it, but tried not to show it in his voice.

"You are right that she is not at Kent, Mr. Darcy. She is now in London, with my brother and his family. We just got news of it late last night," explained Mrs. Bennet.

Darcy had an audible sigh of relief that Fitzwilliam quickly covered.

"We are very glad to hear that she arrived safely," added Colonel Fitzwilliam while Darcy recovered from the news. "We had seen her in Kent, and were under the impression that she came straight home. We came to convey a message from Mrs. Collins, but will have to delay the message."

Lydia, who could not take her eyes off of the handsome Fitzwilliam, spoke. "Colonel, you may give me the message, I will be sure to give it to Lizzy when she returns home."

Fitzwilliam looked at Lydia with humor, she was a pretty little thing. He actually saw a little bit of Elizabeth in her, but she was only fifteen, and was boldface flirting with him.

"When do you think she will return, Mrs. Bennet?" asked an eager Darcy.

"Oh, my sister did not say, but not any time soon, I imagine. She enjoyed London well enough a few months ago. I am sure we will hear from Lizzy herself soon. My sister only wrote because my daughter was quite overtaken from her journey, which I do not fully understand since it is only a three-hour trip, and Lizzy generally is a good traveler. She usually has boundless energy."

The gentlemen did not know what to say. Darcy was grieved to hear of Elizabeth in such a state. He was calculating at that moment, how long before he would arrive in London.

"How much did you see of my daughter in Kent? Was she well last time you saw her?"

"Yes, Ma'am, she was in excellent health. We saw her just over a day ago. She had dinner at Rosings with us, and left the next morning," Fitzwilliam offered.

"Oh, dinner at Rosings! She did write about how very generous Lady Catherine was to invite her to dine at her splendid estate more than once. How very obliging of your aunt to entertain my Lizzy and little Maria. I am sure that we owe your aunt many thanks in extending her gracious hospitality."

"Not at all, I assure you, Mrs. Bennet," Darcy added almost abruptly. "Speaking of hospitality, Madam, we thank you for having us here. We must be going, as we are only passing through. We will relay the message to Miss Bennet at a later date."

The gentlemen stood up, as did the ladies.

"Come again," Lydia said, looking only at Colonel Fitzwilliam.

*

Sitting in her uncle's library, Elizabeth had a book opened on her lap, but she stared at the wall instead. Her aunt entered and saw her niece lost in thought, and still in a great deal of pain.

"Lizzy, he will come here. It might be tonight, and if not, then tomorrow for certain."

"I know, Aunt. I know. If there was anywhere else I could flee, I would. I do not mean to distress you."

The lady made her way across the room and sat next to Elizabeth.

"It has to be more, than just being embarrassed, my dear. If you would have received him at the parsonage, then why will you not receive him here? He is not the one who humiliated you. In fact, I am quite certain that he is humiliated by his aunt's behavior as well. He most likely feels responsible."

"It is not so much the humiliation, dear Aunt… As much as I hate to admit it, Lady Catherine was right on many accounts."

"Lizzy! How can you listen to one word that horrible woman said? I do not care how much money she has. She has no manners, and that means that she has not understanding. How can you give any weight to what she said, Lizzy?"

"Even you have to admit that he can make a much better match, Aunt."

"In fortune only, my dear. He would never find your equal in beauty, intellect and wit."

"Your praise of me is from pure affection. You are too kind, and blind. But please, think! It _is_ true that his family will not look kindly on me. I am not accomplished. I would not know what to do as Mistress of Pemberly. It is a tremendous estate! Much would be expected. I am afraid that I would embarrass him, and that, eventually, he would tire of me."

"Nonsense! I cannot believe that you let that woman get to you, Elizabeth. You are much smarter than that." Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece in earnest. She did not believe that the broken girl in front of her resembled Elizabeth at all, and it grieved her.

"Maybe it was Providence that kept him from proposing. I did not think it all through. I only thought about how kind he was, how handsome I found him, and how he meant to take care of me. I did not think about what I had to offer him. Beauty fades, wit only lasts for as long as the ear entertains it. I have nothing to recommend myself. I will not be able to help him in society. I will only drag him down. I cannot do this to him. He deserves much better."

"Lizzy…"

"I cannot even offer him my first kiss," Elizabeth whispered. She stared across the room again, this time with a tear streaming down her face.

Mrs. Gardiner spoke with a firm, but gentle voice. "That is a falsehood of the blackest kind, my dear." She touched Elizabeth's cheek and made her look back at her.

"You did not kiss Mr. Wickham, Elizabeth. There is a big difference between taking and giving. If someone steals an apple from a cart, would the cart owner berate himself for giving it to him?"

Elizabeth halfway smiled.

Her aunt leaned over and gave Elizabeth a kiss on her cheek. "Let us go see what your little cousins are up to, Lizzy. I did promise that you would be helping me. You must not make me a liar."

Late the next morning, Darcy called at the Gardiners. Mrs. Gardiner warmly welcomed Darcy into the drawing room. He scanned the room as he entered and saw that Elizabeth was not there. Mrs. Gardiner bade him to sit and have some tea with her.

"You see, Mr. Darcy, that we are alone."

"Yes, Mrs. Gardiner. I can see that," he answered gravely. "It seems I am following a phantom."

"Come, Mr. Darcy. We both know that we have a problem to solve, so please put your hat down, for we have much to discuss."

"Will she not see me?"

His crestfallen face almost broke her heart, and she looked on him with pity.

"Not at this time, Mr. Darcy. Please do not be cast down, for it is not your fault."

"But I am here to make amends. She needs just to see my face to know that I would do anything to make it up to her. Anything," he explained earnestly.

"That is part of the trouble, Mr. Darcy. She is humiliated. She does not want you to make anything up to her, because she does not blame you one bit. She feels that she has brought shame upon you, and will continue to bring shame on you if you keep up the acquaintance."

Darcy was startled. "If I keep up the acquaintance? Does she mean to stop our… friendship?"

Mrs. Gardiner looked at him knowingly. "She is young. She does not know what she wants. She has not given me permission to speak to you so freely, Mr. Darcy, but I feel I must. She hears your aunt's harsh words in her head, and cannot stop giving them credence."

"That is utter nonsense! She should not listen to one word she says!"

"We both know that, Mr. Darcy, but my dear Lizzy needs to come to that herself. She has been through some very trying episodes in the past few months. She still is a young person, and even working through one of these happenings would be hard enough, without having several of them stacked on top of each other."

Darcy looked helplessly at his hostess.

"Drink some tea, Mr. Darcy." Mrs. Gardiner was all graciousness and beauty. Even though he was pained to the core that she would not see him, Darcy was relieved that Elizabeth chose to come to London. She would be well taken care of here.

"Thank you, Mrs. Gardiner." He took a sip, but looked back up at her with a flash of panic.

"Is there anything else I should know about what happened with Wickham? He swore to me that he only talked with her harshly and kissed her," he asked fervently.

"That is all that happened, but it was more than enough, Mr. Darcy. Most of us will not know what it is like to have someone force themselves upon us in such a close and most unwanted manner."

Darcy shifted his weight at the thought, and tried to keep his anger at bay. To keep the thoughts of just how he was going to make that man pay further, what was already in the process…

"Did you know that Elizabeth slapped him with all her might?"

A small smile came to Darcy's face. Among all the feelings that swirled in his head, a single, salient one pushed its way to the surface. He was proud of her. How he admired her. "I suspected as much, since he was holding his cheek when we rode up."

"That is my Lizzy through and through, but did you also know that weeks before, in another more civil attack, Mr. Collins' proposed to my niece? He did not touch her person, but he would not accept her response, although she refused him over and over again."

"I did not know that."

"It happened the morning after the ball that Mr. Bingley held at Netherfield. She finally quit the house to end his overtures, and her mother would not let her hear the end of it for weeks. I was a personal witness to her being accused constantly of ruining her family and not carrying out her duty."

The pieces were falling into place. He remembered Elizabeth mentioning to him while he lay bleeding next to her, that they both had bleak mornings, but she was able to redeem hers by helping him. _She had refused Collins that very morning!_ Now everything made sense, why she was out in foul weather, not dressed appropriately and not caring to go back anytime soon. She was not careless; she was distressed.

Mrs. Gardiner continued. "I thought that was why she wanted to come away to London with us, but I was wrong. It seems that a certain unpleasant scene with you caused her to quit the county. You see, you have quite a hold on my niece, Mr. Darcy."

"I was able to explain my behavior to Miss Bennet since then." He explained.

"I know that, Mr. Darcy, and it does you credit, but even though you charmed her here in London, she was still uncertain about you. Then after what Wickham did to her, she thought that you would have no thoughts of her anymore. And for fear of making Jane unhappy before her wedding, and also fear that she would be forced to marry Mr. Wickham, Elizabeth did not tell a soul of her unfortunate encounter. She lost Jane just days after that. She was happy to go off to Kent. To leave countless troubles behind."

"And she had no idea I would follow her there."

"You seem to be in the habit of following my niece around everywhere, Mr. Darcy," the lady said with a sly smile. "But it seems you made the most of it," she added.

"Yes, I thought I was making great progress, that was until my aunt…" Darcy shook his head. " I cannot even think upon it without feeling sick, Mrs. Gardiner. The pain, the mortification she must have suffered."

"Exactly, Mr. Darcy. Tell me, how do you think your dear sister would weather all of this?"

Darcy looked up at her with painful understanding.

"I know that they have very different temperaments, and Lizzy is strong and speaks her mind, but even the strong need rest and sustenance. The poor thing has been battered and beaten over and over again. She is not even allowed to correspond with Charlotte by your aunt's decree, and her dearest sister is no longer at home. My Lizzy is lost. There is a person here who resembles her only in form. The rest of her is gone."

"I would do anything for her. She must know that. I need her to know that." Darcy looked at the door. "Please, Mrs. Gardiner, is she in the house? May I call for her myself? I need to see her," he begged.

"I think she needs time, Mr. Darcy."

"How much time?"

"I have no idea. I wish I could be of more help to you."

Darcy thought for several seconds before he spoke again.

"You are a gracious woman, Mrs. Gardiner, and I could not ask for more than you have given me."

"There is one more thing, Mr. Darcy."

He looked up at her.

"She wrote you a letter. She would not tell me what it contained; so that is why I sat you down to have this talk. She has not been herself, and I fear that there are foolish words in here Mr. Darcy." She pulled the letter from a cushion in the couch.

"I want you to read it, knowing everything I told you," she warned.

Darcy looked at her and the letter. She finally put it out and into his grasp.

"Thank you, Madam. You have been most kind."

He stood up and pocketed the letter in his coat. He took his hat and bowed to Mrs. Gardiner.

"Good day to you, Mr. Darcy. I hope that our paths will cross again, soon."

"Thank you, Mrs. Gardiner. Good day to you."

From the corner of an upstairs window, Elizabeth watched Mr. Darcy as he entered his carriage. Only the back of his head was in view, and although disappointed, Elizabeth thought it might be for the best. She stepped away from the window when the carriage disappeared, and wiped away the tears that would not cease.

"Abiit, excessit, evasit, erupit," she whispered to herself. _He has left, absconded, escaped and disappeared. _


	7. Chapter 10

I told you we would all survive Chapter 9! :0) Now a little more bad news… I am catching up to myself. I only have three more chapters til the end of my book, which means I cannot post two per week anymore. (They are really beefy chapters BTW. I tried to break them into more, but they wouldn't let me.) I have technically finished, but am going back, adding, editing, filling in, and doing more research for some details I'm not too sure about. I want to make sure I wrap everything up tightly, and do not want to rush. You all deserve a great ending (and it's going to be sooo good, if I do say so myself). So, all my updates will be on Mondays now. Enjoy Chapter 10…

CHAPTER TEN

Darcy paced back and forth in his drawing room. Colonel Fitzwilliam sat nearby, stoking the fire from his seat.

"Get it over with and read the damn thing!" he exclaimed. "You are exhausting me."

"I am not prepared enough. I will wait until I retire for the evening, and then I will not exhaust you any further," Darcy answered without humor.

"Pray then, retire now, Darcy. For I have every intention of throwing you in this fire next, but you will not stand still, and I am afraid you will smoke like hell," he joked, trying to lighten Darcy's mood.

Darcy finally sat down, and let out a great sigh.

"There was a time not long ago, when I thought her family far beneath me. I thought her relations vulgar, and her lack of connections reprehensible. But what excuse can I give ours? Does Lady Catherine's fortune give her leave to behave in such a barbaric manner? Elizabeth's mother is a gossip, and her two youngest sisters are flirts, but there is not a mean spirited person among them. They are not vicious. They wish harm to no one. And her other relations? I have never met with more open, charming and elegant people as the Gardiners. I would be happy to be settled directly across the street from such relations as they.

Even before Lady Catherine threw Elizabeth from the premises, she shot vicious little arrows at her, belittling everything about her, from her accomplishments at the pianoforte, to her apparel. Yet Elizabeth bore it like a queen. I am heartily ashamed of the way I felt, and how she was treated. We are the ones with the vulgar and reprehensible connections, Cousin."

"Brilliant! Let us change the Darcy motto to say exactly that. _Vulgar and Reprehensible to the End!_ It has a certain ring to it, do you not think?"

Fitzwilliam managed to get Darcy to smile, and he went to pour him a glass of brandy.

"Come now, Darcy. Mrs. Gardiner forewarned you. Drink your medicine, then go and read your letter. Cry yourself to sleep, and we will revisit this in the morning."

Darcy took the brandy from his cousin.

After putting if off longer than he should, Darcy finally made it to his room, and picked up the letter that he had ignored all day. He braced himself for the worst, and it was a very good thing that he did.

_Dear Sir,_

_My aunt is very clever, and will most likely prepare you for whatever she thinks this letter holds. I love her very dearly, and even though she understands me and returns my love, she does not know my heart._

_I did not sleep the last night I spent at Hunsford. I was very happy, and my head was full of many things, including your manners, and your generosity to even think of me. I was struck at how kind you could be to me after all our misunderstandings, and how badly I treated you to your face regarding Mr. Wickham. I cannot look on that without shame. I should have seen through him at the very start, when he started to disparage you within twenty minutes of our acquaintance. A true gentleman would not do that, and I would have not needed you to stand up and expose him, if I had one ounce of sense. _

_As I said, Mr. Darcy, my head was full of many things that night, but one thing that was lacking, were thoughts of what would be best for you. As much as it stings to admit it, your aunt, although wrong in her approach, and abominable in her execution, was right in her motive. I cannot be a proper companion for you. I would bring derision and censure upon you and your family name. I know nothing of running such an immense estate such as Pemberley, and would be an embarrassment to you with my inadequacies at home, and in society. _

_I might seem pleasant enough now, with my pert opinions and independent manners, but how would that translate as a wife of such a great man as you? I am an ignorant country girl, with no thought to decorum or propriety. I am completely void of any of the elegance that would be required as your wife. If you only knew what I am guilty of! But I cannot injure you any further by explaining._

_Lastly, I must admit that I am weak, and do not think I could bear the constant scrutiny of others. If my spirits are this low after one attack, then how could I ever navigate your sphere in general? Your aunt will make sure my connections are known, and I can only imagine what I would encounter on a regular basis. Every arrow directed at me will hit both of us, and I cannot carry that burden. I do not want to take on that responsibility. _

_All this to say, that although I think very highly of you, we are not a good match. A couple must be on equal ground to succeed in a marriage, and we are miles apart, Mr. Darcy. I will always be grateful that you thought of me, but I ask you now to think of me no more. I do not want to see you, and I ask you to kindly not call on me in London, or at Longbourn when I return. This is for the best, sir. You will look back and be grateful that I had a moment of lucidity, when you admire your future wife, who will be lovely and well equipped to take on such a great name as Darcy._

_I stay forever in your debt for your kindness,_

_Elizabeth Bennet_

*

Elizabeth found herself in the drawing room. She was alone in the house. She had been in her uncle's library, and tried to get lost in a book, but she could not concentrate. If she were back home, she would certainly have gone on a long walk, and would have not looked back. But what folly had come from her walks?

She hated this feeling of worthlessness, that she was breathing someone else's air. Elizabeth felt like she had no home, no direction, and no end in sight. She looked back at her last few years and felt heartily ashamed. If knighthoods could be given for excellent letter writing, 'innocent' gossiping, and sophisticated scampering about the countryside, Elizabeth would be "Sir Elizabeth" one hundred times over. At this moment, she did not see much difference between herself, and Lydia. Elizabeth was simply more covert with her folly, and it made her ill.

Without thinking, Elizabeth walked directly to the pianoforte. She looked over some music, and sat down in front of the instrument.

Three hours later, Mrs. Gardiner found her niece still playing. She stopped at the door and listened to Elizabeth master a very difficult section. Elizabeth put her entire being into the music. It was a sad, but beautiful composition, and she felt it fully. It resonated throughout her frame, and she in turn poured her soul out through her fingertips. She could linger on a melancholy note as long as she wished, and she could hit bold chords with righteous anger. It was exhilarating. It was freeing. Elizabeth found a new love. Her aunt turned and left her alone.

For days the Gardiner's let Elizabeth play without interruption. Mrs. Gardiner even went out and bought more sheet music for her. And every day, Elizabeth would overcome some little stumbling block that had kept her from taking that instrument seriously before. Elizabeth disciplined herself; she refined her technique, and developed a new appreciation for excellence. She thought of nothing else. That was her plan.

None of the Bennet girls were ever taught to stay at one thing. They flitted to whatever caught their fancy at the moment. Mary only stayed at the pianoforte because it set her apart from her sisters. Vanity disguised as discipline. Elizabeth hated to think it, but her father did them all a great disservice by not taking a more active role in their education. Elizabeth vowed that if she was ever blessed with daughters, she would make sure that they were rational, disciplined and learned creatures.

A letter from Netherfield came for Elizabeth. Jane had returned from her honeymoon in Bath, and has requested her sister to come home. Elizabeth had been in London for over two weeks now, and was torn, she was not sure that she was ready to leave quite yet, but felt there was a tenor of unrest in Jane's letter. Jane said nothing specifically, but it was what she did not say, that concerned Elizabeth. She knew her sister_. Oh, how she missed her!_ She would go, and God help her, if she ran into any gentleman that she wished not to.

While Elizabeth packed, her aunt brought her a note. She kissed her niece's cheek.

"You did not say he could not write," she said with a sad smile.

Her aunt stood before her holding the note in her hand. Elizabeth immediately recognized the handwriting, and it made her heart skip a beat. A flood of emotion came over her. Her head spun. She could not move.

"It will not bite you, dear." Her aunt placed it in her hands and walked out, closing the door behind her.

She placed the letter carefully on her nightstand, and sat numbly upon her bed. _"You did not say he could not write."_ He was not playing fair. Elizabeth must have sat there arguing with herself for a half hour, before she finally picked up the letter. She held it for several seconds. She did not know why, but it comforted her to know that it had been in his hands.

Elizabeth turned it over to break the seal. She hesitated. She could not bring herself to open it. For doing so would only open up a host of things she was not at all ready to face. Breaking the seal might break her resolve. So she held it for a while longer, even pressing it against her heart, and then she tucked it deep into her trunk.

*

Peeking out from the carriage, Elizabeth beheld Netherfield. Although it looked much the same, the simple knowledge of who was now Mistress, transformed it into a very welcoming home, indeed. Caroline went to go stay with the Hursts in London, not long after the wedding, making way for her new sister to step in her proper place. As irritated as both sisters were with the match, they were resigned to it. And keeping them far away, was the dearest wish of Bingley, who wanted his new bride to feel nothing but complete happiness and freedom in her new home.

Jane met Elizabeth at the door, and the sisters embraced whole-heartedly. How much she had missed her favorite sister! Elizabeth was surprised at the rise of emotion, once she beheld Jane. It startled her. She did not want to let go. She wanted Jane to hold her, and she wanted to cry on her neck for hours. But Elizabeth's troubles were deeper than tears. They were deeper than explanation. They were deeper than her own comprehension.

The two held hands as they made their way toward the drawing room.

Mr. Bingley was waiting anxiously by the mantle. The door opened, and his lovely wife, and her dearest sister came through together.

Bingley bowed, and then strode over toward them. "Miss Elizabeth! How happy I am to see you!"

Elizabeth smiled widely, and curtsied. Bingley came to stop right in front of her, and reached for both of her hands.

"I welcome you as my very own sister, now. What a merry addition to my family you are, and I need not say, that we hope that you will consider Netherfield a second home."

Elizabeth returned his enthusiasm. "You might regret that open invitation, Mr. Bingley. For all the charm that Longbourn once held for me, has taken up residence here. I fear you will very soon, be quite tired of me," she joked.

"Nonsense! We want nothing else, then to hear of London, Kent and what ever else you have been up to, but I must excuse myself until dinner, dear sister. I am sure you have some catching up to do."

Bingley left the ladies alone, and the two quickly found comfortable seats and started to catch up. Jane spoke of their trip to Bath, their elegant accommodations, the sights, and the concerts they attended. Elizabeth smiled when a few of her own questions caused Jane to blush, but the sisters were mostly at ease and free in their conversation, at least where Jane was concerned.

Elizabeth, however, had to do an intricate dance, to be able to explain her early departure from Kent, to her almost monastic lifestyle she led for the last few weeks in London. Elizabeth had carefully gone over it in her head, and worked out any inconsistencies, oddities and any hint of sadness. But before Jane could ask too many questions, Elizabeth popped up.

"Jane! You will never guess," Elizabeth teased. "You will never guess in a million years, so I will just have to show you."

Elizabeth moved over to the pianoforte and sat down. She glanced once more at Jane before she started playing. Jane smiled quizzically, until Elizabeth was a few measures in. Then Jane's smile became a look of wonder, as she heard Elizabeth play like never before. Elizabeth performed with intensity, feeling and with surprising skill. The music swelled from the instrument, and caught Jane up in a spiral of emotion, as the movement crescendoed into a full rhapsody.

Jane stood up and walked toward her sister. Elizabeth continued, her fingers moving back and forth with great ability. Jane stood in awe, as her sister felt each note acutely. The movement ended in sadness, but it was exquisitely beautiful.

Jane wiped a tear.

"For heaven's sake, Jane," Elizabeth teased, "it was not that bad!"

Surprised laughter filled the room as Jane expressed her disbelief. "How did you get to be such a proficient, Lizzy? This is astounding!"

Elizabeth shook her head. "I am not a proficient, Jane. I have to master one piece at a time, but I _have_ fallen in love. I never knew how satisfying it could be, to truly apply yourself to something with all your heart. Aunt and Uncle let me take over their drawing room, and I was rarely disturbed. I chose whatever music I fancied."

Jane was still in shock.

"You should have seen Mary's face last night, when I applied myself in front of her, for the first time… I actually felt guilty. For she looked as if I had gone up into her room and snatched something most valuable from her."

"Oh, poor Mary," Jane stated with true pity. "Maybe this will bring you both closer together. Maybe you can share this new passion with her, Lizzy."

"Possibly, Jane." She looked at her sweet sister, and felt a twinge of guilt. "How very kind you are, Jane. I am certain I will become quite boorish without your influence."

Jane touched the fine instrument. "Yes, I can see just what the absence of my influence does for you. I am beginning to think I was simply a distraction."

"No, dear Jane, _this_ is the distraction." She closed the lid, and stood up to take her sister's hands.

"I am not ready for questions at this time, Jane, but I do have a great favor to ask of you."

Jane waited for Elizabeth to continue.

"I do want to be here with you and Mr. Bingley, as much as you have offered, however, I do ask that you will let me know if…" Elizabeth took a breath. "…if Mr. Darcy comes to visit."

Elizabeth could not look at her sister's concerned face anymore, so she glanced down at their hands.

"I just ask that you tell me when he comes, so I can be… elsewhere. That is all."

Jane squeezed her hands. "Lizzy, I will honor your wishes, but you need to know that I wish very much to speak with you on that very subject when you are ready."

Elizabeth would still not look up at her.

"Lizzy?"

She finally met Jane's lovely clear blue eyes.

"I will wait until you are ready."

And with that, Jane deposited a kiss on her cheek, and then questioned her sister if she had the same stipulations for when Caroline and Mrs. Hurst came to visit. Elizabeth was too curious to see how they would act around them both, since they were now considered family, and declared she would not miss that for the world.

There was no news of Darcy, so Elizabeth was free to come to Netherfield as often as she pleased. Life at Longbourn was as altered as Elizabeth feared, but she was able to nurture a closer relationship with Mary, although Mary still preached frequently, and did point out that Elizabeth put too much feeling in her music, and thus was misinterpreting what the composers originally meant.

A few things had changed since Elizabeth had gone; none of the Bennet girls were allowed to stir outdoors by themselves, and gentlemen callers would only be received and entertained in the parlor. Mr. Bennet had set an edict without a word as to why. Elizabeth thought it odd, especially when he was the one to pay the price with his two youngest daughters whining and crying about his unfairness even more than usual. But Elizabeth was in agreement, knowing what she now did. But she still wanted the exertion and the woods, so she bargained pianoforte time with Mary, in exchange for a walking partner.

On one such walk, Mary posed a question.

"Lizzy, why your sudden interest in the pianoforte? You never seemed to care that much before. It was merely a fancy that you indulged at whim."

Elizabeth smiled. "Ah, yes, Mary, it was," she confessed, as they continued their walk.

"I guess I discovered what you had, and found value in a discipline. Maybe I grew up." Elizabeth smiled. "I guess that we all have to grow up sometime, Mary."

Mary waxed. "That is true. We only keep from growing, when we close our eyes and refuse to see the very things in front of us, be it good or bad. I think of it, as if we were plants, and did not let the sun shine down on us. Though it had the possibility to scorch and burn, if we did not give ourselves over to it, we would never grow."

Elizabeth was thoughtful for a couple of minutes. "Mary, that was very wise."

They walked in silence for a few more minutes.

"Mary, do you ever see yourself getting married?"

There was a long pause as their feet moved forward.

"I have thought about it. It does not seem unpleasant under the right circumstances. Marriage is, after all, ordained by the Lord," Mary stated. "I would not want what Jane had, though. I do not care for the finery, the attention and the public display. I think a wedding should be an intimate reverent occasion."

Another few seconds passed.

"Do you picture yourself getting married, Lizzy?"

"I have thought about it as well." She took a deep breath and managed a smile. "But I do not think I will ever marry. I am too headstrong for my own good, and there are not many people I truly like, to be quite honest. To actually find someone who I actually love and respect, and who loves me back—well, that is quite an impossibility."

Kitty appeared just then, from off the path. She looked a bit flustered and flushed.

"Kitty! What are you doing here? Where is Lydia?" Elizabeth demanded.

Kitty glanced over her shoulder, before answering.

"Lydia is coming. She had to tie her lace, that is all."

Elizabeth saw something in Kitty's eyes. She would not maintain eye contact with her. Lydia showed up moments later, just as red-faced, but she was not flustered, she was euphoric.

"Lizzy! Mary! How happy we are to meet you, for we were racing home in order to show you our new purchase!" Lydia raised a package that was tucked under her arm.

"We bought the most horrid bonnet, but will pull it to pieces once we get home!"

"Why did you even buy it?" asked Mary flatly.

"Oh you would never understand, Mary." Lydia laughed. "Actually, the bonnet looks very similar to the one you have on. I wish you would let me at it as well."

"Lydia, keep your thoughts to yourself." Elizabeth interjected.

She looked between her two youngest sisters, who were shooting each other looks. Something was going on, but something was _always_ going on with those two. Elizabeth was just glad that they were together, and that they were all heading safely home.

Jane was falling into the role of Mistress of Netherfield beautifully. She was preparing for the arrival of her sisters-in-law, and showed no anxiety at all. Elizabeth followed her around as she gave instructions to her housekeeper, the kitchen staff, and the upstairs maids. Although Jane was always overly kind, she did possess a certain authority that surprised Elizabeth.

Jane had the main guest rooms rearranged, even though Caroline had them made over just a few months prior. Everything was in place, and the anticipated guests arrived.

Elizabeth was invited to join them for dinner, and stay the night. She took the opportunity to wear her light blue gown with the seed pearls, and as she stood in front of a mirror, she could not help but think of when she last wore it. She thought of her tall dance partner, with his dark piercing eyes, and how he confessed that she took his breath away. And she thought about an unopened letter, tucked in between the letters she had received from Jane. And then she put both thoughts out of her head, and went down to dinner.

Dinner was surprisingly pleasant. Caroline and Louisa were on their best behavior. They mostly talked with Jane and Bingley, but Elizabeth was addressed with civility on a few occasions.

"I understand that you were in Kent, Miss Eliza," Caroline said. "Did you have the opportunity to meet Lady Catherine de Bourgh?"

The name sent unwanted images through Elizabeth. Charlotte in tears at the foot of the dark staircase, a miserable carriage ride with three strangers, and the thought of _him_, not far away, and not knowing any of it was happening.

"Yes, I did, Miss Bingley. On several occasions."

"Did not Mr. Darcy come to Kent while you where there?" asked Louisa. "I thought he mentioned it when we saw him in London."

Elizabeth hoped that the heat she felt from her face, was not apparent to anyone else. She looked over at Jane, who had stopped with her fork in mid-air. She had said nothing to Jane about Mr. Darcy being in Kent.

"Yes, I saw Mr. Darcy and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, at Rosings."

Elizabeth could see Caroline go pale at this. Louisa looked at her sister with concern, and for the first time, Elizabeth actually felt sorry for the lady. It was apparent to anyone, blind or deaf, with or without their wits, that Caroline was after Darcy with a vengeance. Elizabeth could only imagine how many years Caroline had been tracking him, for she was almost three years older than Jane. But to see her trying to maintain her countenance when she, and everyone else, knew it was a losing battle, made her seem vulnerable and _human_ for once.

"I left not long after they arrived. I saw very little of them, actually," Elizabeth added with mercy.

Caroline looked up, with a glimmer of hope. "I am certain that once her family arrived, that Lady Catherine did not see the need to entertain a simple parson and his friends anymore."

Well, that was short lived.

Bingley quickly interjected. "I actually heard the opposite. I heard that you were invited to Rosings to dine with Darcy and the Colonel, on more than one occasion. Is that not right, Miss Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth would have been glad at his assistance, if he was not giving out information that she would rather be forgotten. Once again, she caught Jane surprised face. This was all new to her. _What a terrible sister I am!_

"Yes. We did have two dinners while they were there, but I left the very morning after the second. It all happened so fast, and it all seems so long ago now."

Louisa changed the subject for the sake of her sister, who plummeted once again into the depths, but this time Elizabeth was not stirred to compassion.

Elizabeth was now aware that Bingley had been corresponding with Mr. Darcy, and she wondered how much more he knew. She could gather from Jane's face, that he had not divulged anything to her, and was happy that he knew his bride well enough not to distress her with the shock that her dearest sister was kicked out of Kent, like an old shoe.

The knock that came at Elizabeth's door was anticipated. Jane slipped in with a candle and came to sit next to her. Jane's face was hurt, but also concerned for Elizabeth.

Elizabeth looked up at her, and felt remorse for not disclosing this sooner.

"I am sorry, Janie. I should have been a better sister to you, and trust you with such things."

"You need not apologize, Lizzy. I was actually more shocked that Charles knew what I did not. He explained to me that Mr. Darcy had told him in the strictest confidence, but when the subject came up, he took the opportunity to press you."

She looked at her with a warm smile. "He thinks you are very stubborn, by the way."

Elizabeth laughed. "I am in danger of having that, and only that, chiseled on my gravestone… Oh Jane, I can't quite give it words."

"Give what words?"

"Everything that has transpired. There is too much, and most of it too painful."

"Charles has assured me that Mr. Darcy is very much in love with you, Lizzy. Is that not clear to you?"

Elizabeth hesitated. "No. That seems to be the only thing that is clear at this point, Jane."

"I do not understand, Lizzy. Do you still not like him? What did he do? What happened that made you leave for London after Christmas, in the first place?"

"It was a misunderstanding that has been since rectified, Jane. Mr. Darcy has been very kind and generous. It is _me_ at this point, that I am doubting."

"Can you not love him?"

Elizabeth could not answer. Several seconds went by before she could speak.

"It is possible to love someone who is not good for you."

Jane could not comprehend what was in Elizabeth's head.

"And you think that Mr. Darcy is not good enough for you?"

A small laugh escaped from Elizabeth. "Dear Jane! Only you would not be able to fathom that it is _I_, who is not good enough for Mr. Darcy."

Jane was thoughtful for a while. "Lizzy, do you think that I am not good enough for Mr. Bingley?"

Elizabeth started at her very words. "Of course not! You know very well that you are the best sort of woman who ever existed, Jane!"

Elizabeth reached to touch Jane's face.

"I see where your logic is taking you, Jane. But you and I are different creatures. You are all goodness and mercy. I am all stubbornness and impertinence. You are elegant, and I am –"

Jane interrupted her. "Hush, Lizzy! I will not hear any of this." Jane stared in her sister's face, and for the first time, she could read the great pain. She could also see tears well up in Elizabeth's eyes.

"Dear Lizzy… what happened to you?"


	8. Chapter 11

Dearest Readers, I have managed to split Chapter Eleven into two separate chapters, so now I have another week to keep you with me. How very evil of me. There will now be fourteen chapters all together. Remember that I will post every Monday. Thank you once again, for joining me. I hoped that you packed your bags…

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Always finding horseback to be much more efficient than a carriage in good weather, Bingley returned from an errand in Meryton. He was not far out of the village, when he noticed a slight figure standing off the road, leaning against a tree.

She straightened up when she saw him and turned, like she was calling to someone. Bingley immediately recognized his sister-in-law as he rode up, and stopped his horse in front of her. He was immediately concerned.

"Miss Catherine, pray, what are you doing out here all alone?"

Kitty's face betrayed her. She was flustered and looked around awkwardly.

"Mr. Bingley, I am not alone, for Lydia is not far behind."

She glanced behind her, toward the wood. Bingley listened to her words, but read her face.

"Then I will wait for her with you. You should not part like that, Kitty, you have been forewarned by your father."

"Lydia is… gathering some flowers, and I had no interest… She might be a while. You should not bother yourself, Mr. Bingley. She could be quite some time. I do not mind the wait." She tried to stay calm, but her voice rose with every word.

Bingley's pulse quickened, and his mind raced. He jumped down from his horse, and looked Kitty straight in the face while handing her the reins.

"Stay here, Kitty. Do _not_ stir from this spot."

*

Elizabeth lay on her bed, trying to read. The appalling event, now over a month behind her. Jane had been very distressed by Elizabeth's situation indeed, but was in not agreement with Elizabeth on the most important point. Jane explained that she knew the feeling of family disapproval, to a much lesser extent, but urged Elizabeth not to make such a sacrifice of self, based on the wishes of those so wholly unconnected to her.

What Elizabeth could not fully articulate, was that she did not see herself so much as self-sacrificing, as _self-preserving_. She never encountered a person of such importance as Lady Catherine, and even though she was never in awe or impressed by the woman, the very fact that she could crush anyone upon will—Elizabeth, Charlotte, Mr. Collins or any human being in her path, left Elizabeth wondering if she would want to put herself in any sort of position to be belittled in that manner again.

More questions came to mind on the heels of her thoughts. Does she have any desire to move into such a sphere? Would she be happy being Mistress of such an immense estate as Pemberley? Would she be able to turn her mind to the things that actually pleased her, or would she be distracted with strict traditions, and required civilities paid to those she knew would have laughed at her before she so advantageously acquired the Darcy name? Could the feelings that she had for Mr. Darcy overcome those other feelings that wanted to keep her safe and clear of any such persons? Was it not so much that _he_ would eventually resent her, but would _she_ resent him? She did not know anymore.

Jane told her that if she truly loved Mr. Darcy, then none of this should matter. And that is when it hit Elizabeth. _It mattered!_ Her love was _not_ enough. She was selfish. And she felt even more unequal to Mr. Darcy because of it.

Everything was upside-down. Nothing was clear anymore. She tried to remember their last night at Rosings when he asked to see her alone at Hunsford, but it was clouded in her mind. She could not recall her heart, only fleeting feelings. Part of her wondered if she once again spent more time in his presence—would she be able to ascertain once and for all if she truly loved him enough. But to put that man through anymore was out of the question. She answered her own question by having to ask it in the first place. _He loved her more, so he deserved more. _

Mary entered Elizabeth's room, and Elizabeth looked up from her book.

"Why is Lydia crying in her room?" Mary asked.

"I do not know, and do not think I care to know—it is Lydia after all. But I did hear her arguing with Kitty when they came in. They will make up. They always do." Elizabeth smiled slightly, and then looked concerned. "I thought you were going to practice for a half hour longer."

"I was, but Mr. Bingley came by unexpectedly, and is in the study with Father. He interrupted father's meeting with the new curate, Mr. Walsh. Mr. Walsh waited for fifteen minutes, but had another appointment."

Elizabeth, who was reclining reading a book, sat up.

"Is Jane here?"

"No. Just Mr. Bingley."

Elizabeth was more than curious. She closed her book.

"What were his looks, Mary? Was he himself, or did he seem concerned?"

"Mr. Walsh?"

"No, Mary… Mr. Bingley."

"Oh. He actually seemed quite distracted and unhappy," Mary answered.

Immediately concerned for Jane, Elizabeth stood up.

"How long ago did he arrive, Mary?"

"About twenty minutes ago."

Downstairs, Elizabeth paced in the vestibule. How much longer could they be?

Finally the door opened, and Bingley stepped out with her father not far behind. The gentlemen shook hands. Upon seeing Elizabeth, Bingley came toward her. His face was cautious, but he smiled.

"Elizabeth, I am happy to see you. I was going to search you out."

Elizabeth did her best to read his face, but it was a puzzle to her.

"I will need to leave Hertfordshire for a few days on business, and would like you to come and stay with Jane for the duration. Would that be possible?"

"Certainly, Mr. Bingley. When are you leaving?" she asked in surprise.

"This afternoon. And please, call me 'Charles'—remember we are brother and sister now."

Elizabeth smiled, and made a mental note, once again, to use his Christian name.

"May I send our carriage for you at four?" he inquired.

"Of course, but is everything all right? Is there something I should know?"

Bingley looked at her like he was about to divulge something, but then he changed his mind.

"Just sudden business in town. I need to take my leave, Miss Elizabeth. The carriage will be sent at four."

The gentleman bowed and was out the door swiftly.

Elizabeth stood alone for a while before she resolved to see her father. He had immediately closed the door after he shook hands with Bingley.

She knocked upon his door. "Father, it is me," Elizabeth called through the door.

"Not now, Lizzie."

"Please, Papa, I need to see you."

A few moments passed before he answered.

"Very well then, Lizzie."

Elizabeth entered to find Mr. Bennet sitting behind his desk, with his chin resting between his thumb and forefinger—seemingly lost in thought. He looked over at Elizabeth when she entered. She closed the door and walked over to the chair nearest him, and sat.

"I am to go to Jane."

"Yes. I know."

"What else do you know, Father?"

Mr. Bennet looked at his favorite. "I am not at liberty to say, my dear. Go stay with Jane, and all will be right."

_This was not right!_ Elizabeth did not think it right to keep something of importance from her.

"Father, you know me. I am not squeamish. I can help you with your burden."

Mr. Bennet smiled. "Ah, you are my dear girl, Lizzy. This is not a burden I can share, or wish to. Please believe me when I say that there is nothing to worry about. All will be right soon enough."

He looked into her eyes. "Now, go pack. Kiss Jane for me, and tell her that she is dearly missed."

Elizabeth did not want to leave.

"Off you go, Lizzy."

Realizing that he would not give in, Elizabeth stood up, but left her father with no doubt of how she felt.

Bingley was gone by the time Elizabeth arrived at Netherfield, and Jane was in low spirits, and Elizabeth could not add to them with any mention of what she had seen at Longbourn. Caroline and Louisa could also see that their new sister was in need of distraction.

"Dearest Jane, when Mr. Hurst and I were first married, I too, loathed to part from him. It is very natural to feel this way," Louisa tenderly offered.

"Besides, you have already been parted before for two days," Caroline added, "This should not be as difficult. Your new husband has very important business matters to deal with at all times, Jane. This is part of being his wife," Caroline offered, not so tenderly.

Elizabeth could not help but look up at Jane, when Caroline spoke.

"Mr. Bingley has left you before this?" Elizabeth tried to ask without shock.

Jane met Elizabeth's eyes, and tried her best to keep her voice light and even.

"Yes, while we were in Bath, something came up very suddenly, and he had to leave for two days."

Elizabeth tried to hide her shock.

"Like I said, you have married a very important and busy man, Jane. Charles, like any gentleman with considerable wealth, may be needed at a moment's notice, and cannot help it," explained Caroline.

"He left you alone in Bath?" Elizabeth could not hide her shock anymore.

"For heaven's sake, no!" Caroline chided. "Who do you think our brother is? A monster?"

"Caroline and I came to stay with her. Charles arranged it all," Louisa added, trying to diffuse any tension.

"Yes," Jane assured. "Louisa and Caroline came to me, and kept me quite occupied."

"I just rave about the Roman baths!" effused Caroline. "I swear that I still feel the benefits of them. My skin is quite brilliant!"

The Bingley sisters went on to talk of all the advantages that one could receive from the Roman baths and Bath in general, as Elizabeth looked at Jane questioning, and Jane tried not to look affected.

After breakfast the next morning, Jane accepted an offer to take a turn in the garden with her sister. Once they were a safe distance from the house and any house guests or servants, Elizabeth, who walked arm and arm with Jane, stopped. She turned to look Jane in the face.

"Janie, tell me your troubles, for I told you all of mine. Let us not keep things from each other again," she urged.

"I do not know what to say, Lizzie," she confessed.

"Are you worried about your husband?"

"I do not know."

"Did he explain to you why he had to leave you in Bath?"

Jane's head ducked. She took a moment, and then looked back up at Elizabeth.

"He only said that it was urgent business, and that he would ride to Bristol, where his attorney would meet him to take care of it."

"The timing was not desirable, but these things do happen, Jane. But your Mr. Bingley is a very devoted man. I am certain that it was pure torture for him to leave you."

Jane blushed and smiled, as she remembered his passionate goodbye. "Yes, he did leave quite reluctantly."

"Then why all this?" Elizabeth motioned to her face. "Why do you seem so morose that he is off again? Your husband will have to travel on business from time to time."

Elizabeth did not have the heart to tell Jane, that she felt it was not _business_ business he was about. It seemed of some delicacy and urgency that involved the Bennets in some manner. Elizabeth burned with curiosity, but would not distress Jane further.

Jane looked down once again.

"Caroline is right that I should expect Charles to travel and take care of business. It's just that…" Jane stopped, and looked back into Elizabeth's eyes.

"When we arrived back at Netherfield, I heard quite by mistake that Charles had been _here_."

Elizabeth let the words sink in.

"Here… being Netherfield?"

"Yes. He did not go to Bristol like he said, Lizzy. Well, at least I cannot imagine how he could have. He came to Netherfield for one night, yet he never revealed that to me. He maintained that he stayed the entire time in Bristol, which is in the opposite direction from Bath. I cannot account for it."

"Are you certain the servant was right?"

"She did not know I overheard. She was discussing his unexpected visit with another maid while I walked nearby. She said that he showed up quite unexpectedly, he ate hastily in the kitchen, changed horses, and was off again, only to return a few hours later to sleep. He ordered everyone to not speak of his being here, as he did not want anyone in the neighborhood to learn of it. He left early the next morning, only taking a little breakfast Cook had packed for him."

"And you are sure they were not discussing another time when this happened?"

"I am certain. For they wondered out loud about me, and surmised I was the reason he was in such a hurry to get back."

Elizabeth did not know what to think. She was certain, however, that Bingley was still to be trusted. She took Jane's arm again and hooked hers around it.

"Jane. He loves you. To the point of distraction! He would never want to hurt you. There must be a very good reason to leave you out of this. Please think on that."

Jane looked at Elizabeth with appreciation.

"I am trying."

A letter arrived for Elizabeth at Longbourn. She and Georgiana had been faithful correspondents. Georgiana was finished with her studies, and was to go back to Pemberley for the summer months. She despaired, because her brother would be traveling on business for three weeks in June and July, and she could not think of a better companion than Elizabeth. Georgiana begged her in the most fervent manner, to come and stay with her during that time.

Elizabeth's head reeled at the thought of being in _his_ house. The mere notion was insupportable. She could not ask him not to call on her, not to see her, yet travel over one hundred miles to spend weeks on _his_ property with _his_ sister. It would be cruel and unfeeling. Yet, he must know that Georgiana would be asking her to come. And he would not be there. _How could she even entertain the thought?_

It was impossible for Elizabeth to reply right away. She wanted to get Jane's feelings on the subject, and possibly, her aunt's, but she already knew what their advice would be. She tried to think of anyone who would advise her _not_ to go, and could think of no one… except Lady Catherine. And for the first time since Hunsford, Elizabeth found humor where that great lady was concerned. She laughed at the thought of what Lady Catherine would do if she were shown the invitation. She remembered how screwed and pinched her face became when Elizabeth refused to not engage herself to Mr. Darcy, and she hoped that an artist would be able to capture just that expression at her next portrait sitting.

Elizabeth put Georgiana's letter away and lost herself on the pianoforte. It was an exercise she used often to either clear her head, or to cloud it, so she might not dwell on other things. She played for two hours before she was called to dinner.

The next day, and strangely coincidentally, Elizabeth received a letter from Mrs. Gardiner, informing her that they finally had settled on going to the peak district in Derbyshire next month, and asked if Elizabeth would join them, as previously discussed. It was as if her aunt and Georgiana put their heads together to plan this. Elizabeth could travel with the Gardiners, and be with them for the first week to see the sites, and then she could go to Georgiana the day that _her brother_ left.

Elizabeth did not even want to think his name, let alone read it, or say it out loud. Her heart ached; it pulsed when a ghost of a thought of him passed through her mind. The pain of being separated from him was constantly with her, but she kept telling herself that it was not enough. It was not enough.

Meryton was all upturned with news, and it involved Wickham once again. Elizabeth had managed to avoid the gentleman all together, or most likely the opposite. He had not called at Longbourn since before the wedding, and Elizabeth knew whom she had to thank for that. She heard not what transpired between the two, but Wickham did not dare show his face at Longbourn, though Kitty and Lydia did speak of seeing him in town, and at other gatherings where other officers were present. Gatherings which Elizabeth artfully avoided.

_Wickham was gone._ He was there one day. No trace of him the next. And no one who knew anything spoke of it. The speaking instead, was left to the ignorant and the ill informed. So, of course, the rumors ran unrestrained and were believed most willingly and without reserve.

The most believed rumor was that Wickham was suddenly transferred to a regiment in the north. But there were other whispers that he was sent to America to fight in the brewing war, another placing him at the losing end of a duel, and even one that he was off to marry a rich widow of four and forty in Scotland. But he _was_ gone, and many a shopkeeper came forth to claim that he owed them this and that amount, and how he had trifled with some of their daughters.

Soon, the town that had previously raved about the charming and captivating Wickham, found him to be quite the blight on society. Elizabeth, who had not ventured into Meryton since her return, smiled widely, and immediately felt that it was easier for her to breathe, and Hertfordshire in general, felt more like home again.

As relieved as Elizabeth was, Lydia became suddenly impossible. She lay about the parlor, and in her room crying for no apparent reason, other than the regiment was to be soon transferred to Brighton. No one except her mama paid much attention to her, although it was hard to ignore the louder wails. Elizabeth was certain that her father smiled more than he had previously, and she was even more certain that Lydia's sobs brought on some of his grins.

The noise got even worse, when Lydia was invited by the young wife of Colonel Forster to be her personal companion at Brighton for the summer. Mr. Bennet flatly refused to let her go, and no matter how much Lydia or Mrs. Bennet pleaded, and called him cruel and unfair, he did not relent. Elizabeth was surprised at his resolve, and very pleased with his decision, but unlike her father, she had no study to retreat to. So, she found herself more and more at Netherfield.

The sisters-in-law were now gone, which made Netherfield even more desirable, and there were many nights where Elizabeth would stay over. Jane had a room made up just for her, and Elizabeth started to consider it more her home than Longbourn. For Jane was home. Her only true home.

After much deliberation and re-deliberation, Elizabeth had finally accepted both the Gardiner's, and Georgiana's invitations. She had no other recourse. No excuses. She would travel in one week, and even though she would not be seeing _him_ in actual form, she knew she would be seeing him at every turn, and in everything at Pemberley. She felt like an intruder already…

The peak district was more beautiful than Elizabeth had imagined. She had seen illustrations and a painting or two, but the great rocks and landscapes pleased her immensely. Her aunt was sure that Elizabeth would break her neck, since her niece did come across some amazing views by climbing on top of a few manageable but precarious boulders.

In the past, running had given her the feeling of flying, but from up there, Elizabeth had the vantage point. She could look down below, and everything seemed insignificant. None of her troubles could rise up this high, Elizabeth mused, and her relations had to beg her to come down, so they could breathe once again, and continue their journey.

Lambton was a little village just over five miles from the Pemberley estate, in Derbyshire. Since the weather had been unseasonably dry, the roads were in excellent condition and Elizabeth and the Gardiners arrived in Lambton one day ahead of schedule.

Elizabeth was not expected at Pemberley until the day after next, which made Mrs. Gardiner pleased, since she wanted to show Elizabeth the town where she grew up.

The morning after arriving, Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth left Mr. Gardiner to some paperwork, and the two ladies went out to explore. They stopped at a coffee shop and watched as people went by, and Mrs. Gardiner amused Elizabeth with lively stories of her girlhood. Elizabeth remembered meeting her aunt when Mrs. Gardiner was Miss Stevens, and only seventeen. Elizabeth thought she was the most beautiful thing she had ever beheld, and all these years, and four children later, she was barely altered. Elizabeth thought it might not be sound, but she secretly thought that the women who were least altered by the years, were the ones who were the happiest in their marriages. Her dear aunt was all the proof that Elizabeth needed.

Elizabeth had only one errand in the village. She had a gift of new music for Georgiana, and wanted to buy some pretty ribbon to tie it up with. They visited the milliner, and Elizabeth found the perfect ribbon. Her aunt ran into an old friend inside, and after introductions, she encouraged Elizabeth to go on to the next shop, and she would soon catch up.

Having stopped to admire some lovely fabric in the dressmaker's window, Elizabeth stood with her back to the street. She thought about stepping in and looking at it more closely. The color would go well with Mary's complexion. She was about to turn to go in when a nearby conversation, and two _very_ familiar voices caught her ear. She suddenly straightened up, and became motionless as she listened.

"Brother, is it set in your mind that you must leave first thing tomorrow? I am certain that Miss Elizabeth would like to see you before you go. For she is your friend, too."

Elizabeth took in a sudden breath, and stepped closer to the window, her heart and mind charging wildly. She could now see their reflections in the window. Mr. Darcy had his sister's arm, and was carrying packages in the other.

"I am afraid I am set for my departure, Georgiana. I need to get an early start," was his reply.

His low, dulcet voice caused her physical pain, and she drew one arm around her middle.

"But will she think it rude not to see you at all? For I think she plans to leave the day before you get back. It is a pity she could not arrive until this evening," Georgiana lamented.

Elizabeth could see his face from the side, and something washed across it briefly, though she could not name it.

Darcy turned bodily to look at his sister, facing Elizabeth's back. Elizabeth prayed that the back of her bonnet and simple blue frock, would not register in his mind from the corner of his eye. For she was certain she had worn this same dress during her stay at Netherfield, and on her walk in Kent that one perfect morning, so long ago now.

His full reflection was more vivid then her clouded memory. How handsome and tall he was. How sweet his smile when he looked at his sister. How distressing to be so close with no recourse! She held her middle even tighter.

"Georgiana, why do you not let Miss Bennet decide? Make certain that she knows when I return, and ask if she will stay to see me. Let her know that I would be most pleased to see her, but will understand if she cannot change her plans."

Georgiana smiled and nodded at his suggestion.

"I will be certain to tell her, Fitzwilliam. I hope that she will be pleased with the new pianoforte you gave me. I am in a flutter to show it to her, and all of Pemberley! Thank you, brother, for thinking of her, for there is no one else I would rather spend three whole weeks with… besides you."

Elizabeth took in another breath, and felt lightheaded.

Darcy laughed. "I am quite honored to be included in that very exclusive list. But may I ask why I am second?"

Georgiana smiled teasingly at her brother. "That is because I spent over a month with you and your broken ankle. Neither of you were the jolliest of companions, but I have to admit, you have improved along with your ankle."

Darcy laughed again. "And blood is supposed to be thicker than water…"

And with that, Georgiana gave him a kiss on his cheek. Their carriage pulled up at that moment, and Elizabeth managed to get even closer to the window, still watching the reflection, still holding where she ached, and trying not to be noticed at the same time.

Mr. Darcy helped his sister into the carriage and hopped in after her. Elizabeth strained to see his image in the window one more time before he disappeared. Her heart crashed in her chest as he vanished into the carriage, and the door closed.

She did not move until the carriage pulled away, and she turned and walked quickly in the opposite direction. Her head full of his voice, his reflected image, and the conversation she had just overheard. Her body was somehow able to move forward, although she was certain it was slowly coming apart.

Georgiana had kissed her brother early the next morning and made him promise to write her, as he was already assured of her faithful letters. Darcy assured her that she would be a wonderful hostess and bid her a sad farewell. For he did not want to leave, but knew he must, if Elizabeth was to come to Pemberley.

Elizabeth waited in her private room at the inn. She knew he was gone by now, but he lingered in her head and refused to leave. _It was his idea for her to come to Pemberley!_ What was she supposed to do with that information? Was it simply because she would be a good companion for Georgiana, or was there more to it? Her heart told her it was the latter. He wanted her to stay to see him when he returned. He was leaving it up to her. And she had no idea what she would do.

That same carriage that took him away yesterday was sent to Lambton to retrieve Elizabeth and her things. Her aunt embraced her and made her promise to write before they were to pick her up again on their way back.

As the carriage approached Pemberley, Elizabeth could not help but be amazed at the picture before her. She had not prepared herself for something this size and this pleasing. Even though it was immense, it did not compete with the landscape. It complimented it, perfectly. The lines of the great house did not cut; they flowed. The sandstone exterior blended with its surroundings seamlessly, picking up the different shades and hues from the ground, trees and the hills behind it. Elizabeth was certain that she had never seen a home so happily situated.

Georgiana met Elizabeth as she pulled up, without ceremony, but with great affection—exactly as Elizabeth would have wished it. The two embraced and made their way into the great house arm in arm. Georgiana first showed Elizabeth up to her room. It was elegant without imposing. It was refined, but also comfortable. Elizabeth assured Georgiana that she had never seen a more pleasant and beautiful guest suite, much to Georgiana's delight.

She was taken on a brief tour before lunch was served. The house, so far, was similar to Elizabeth's room in feel. It was exquisite, but not grandiose. Elizabeth admired the sunny rooms, with its tasteful furnishings, and thought of the stark contrast between them and the dark, heavy dungeons at Rosings.

Georgiana had ordered a fitting lunch, and Elizabeth could not help but smile as she watched Georgiana try to interact with the servants with authority, but failing and apologizing and blushing in turn. She could tell her friend was very uncomfortable being the hostess, but she was trying very hard.

Elizabeth assured Georgiana that she was less a guest, and more an honorary sister for the next three weeks, and wanted to be treated as such. So, they were to call each other by their Christian names, and would have to eventually quarrel over a bonnet. Elizabeth would help Georgiana with the menus, and Georgiana was not to worry about protocol in front of Elizabeth—that was to be saved for real guests. Elizabeth then entertained Georgiana with stories of her four sisters, and what it was like to grow up in the midst of them all.

The first week went by rather quickly. The two were barely parted. It took three days to fully explore the interior of the great house and the next few were spent surveying the exterior. Georgiana was not a great walker, but she was a horsewoman, and managed to get a very reluctant Elizabeth on a horse by the end of the week.

Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, was friendly and very helpful. She had been running Pemberley since Mrs. Darcy passed away some years before, and looked after Georgiana as if she was her own. She knew every corner of that house, every piece of silver, every ancestral portrait, and how everything was to be done. She was attentive and pleasant company, and could be talked into joining Elizabeth and Georgiana for one half hour after dinner each night.

Evenings were spent either playing games or at the pianoforte. Unlike Mary, Georgiana was thrilled at Elizabeth's marked improvement. She could not hold back her ardent amazement when she heard her play.

"Elizabeth! What has come over you? You play like an angel!" she enthused.

Elizabeth laughed and commented that she did not know that angels cared for Schubert.

"Really, Elizabeth, what has possessed you?"

"Let me ask you something first, Georgiana. What do you do, when you want to forget your troubles?"

Georgiana looked up at her knowingly. "I understand," she said with a hint of sadness in her voice.

"What does not kill us, makes us better pianoforte players. Is that what they say?"

Elizabeth got a smile out of her young friend, and she started to play something less dissonant, for Georgiana's sake.

The second week slowed down a little bit, and Elizabeth was able to spend some time in Pemberley's tremendous library. Elizabeth had never seen anything like it. Ancient books mixed with modern ones all grouped by category, and then alphabetically within their categories. She did not know where to begin. Georgiana explained that it has been the work of many generations, and that her father added to it his entire life, and now her brother does the same.

"Fitzwilliam rarely goes anywhere without bringing back books for this collection," Georgiana enthused.

Elizabeth looked over at Georgiana. The notion of Mr. Darcy thoughtfully adding to generations and generations of collecting made her smile. How much time she would like to spend in a library of this caliber.

"So, where should we start? I think that I am in the mood for a play. A comedy. Should we read Shakespeare?" She thumbed through several volumes and pulled one out. "How about 'Love's Labour's Lost'?"

The pair took turns reading, and the day passed pleasantly and effortlessly.

One evening, after the two played duets until they were fatigued, they reclined on the same couch, and Elizabeth held Georgiana's head in her lap.

"So, my dear Georgiana, when will you come out? I am sure that you are quite anxious about it—either in anticipation or dread," Elizabeth asked half teasing.

Georgiana did not say anything right away. "I suppose I must, but Fitzwilliam is waiting until I feel… ready."

Elizabeth bent down her head. "And why should you not feel ready? You are lovely, accomplished and wealthy. Those are three things every lady wishes for… and suitors as well," she added smiling, still teasing a bit.

Georgiana sat up and looked seriously into Elizabeth's eyes.

"Elizabeth, how would I be able to tell who only likes me for my fortune?"

Elizabeth could see the true concern in her eyes. And fully knowing of her young friend's experience with Wickham, she smiled warmly at her.

"Well, I do not have that problem myself, Georgiana."

"How lovely to not have anything in the way. I mean, if someone claims to loves you, Elizabeth, there is nothing to make you doubt it. You will be sure that you will be loved… just as you are."

Elizabeth felt her words fully and did not have a response, though her ache pulsed and pounded within her.

"I do not know how I will be able to tell," said a sad Georgiana.

Elizabeth leaned closer to her friend. "I can imagine that you simply need to take your time, to get to know any gentleman's true character before you made a decision about him."

"How long does it take to get to know a gentleman's true character?"

"Well, I think that matters. But you need to watch and see how he behaves around others. If possible, see how he treats his own family."

Something played across Georgiana's face, and she thought for a moment.

"Elizabeth, I gave my brother permission to tell you why he was so upset that day we took a walk… He did tell you, did he not?"

"Yes, he did." Elizabeth tried to read Georgiana's face.

"I am glad you know." She took a brave breath. For you might be able to understand why I do not necessarily want to be out in society. And now you know that my brother is not cruel. He was so concerned about me seeing… _him_ again. And he was none too happy about you being out there alone. But I do not blame you for not getting into our carriage. Fitzwilliam had never spoken to me like that before. I must have cried for an hour before he could calm me down."

"I am glad that I understand everything now as well. I see clearly that your brother never meant to be cruel." How she understood that. How she knew how truly good he was. And how she wished that she had the capability to love him as he deserved—where nothing else would matter. Where the world would be damned. Love the poets and Shakespeare wrote about. Elizabeth's ache radiated out even further.

"But how can I ever go out into society, Elizabeth? I was such a stupid girl. No one can truly want me—just me. Even if I found someone who was not concerned about my fortune, how could he still care for me if he knew… what happened?"

Elizabeth was not expecting the depth of that question.

"Georgiana, you attached yourself to a man who claimed he loved you. There is no shame in that. Anyone who hears your story, will understand that you were manipulated by a man who is a master of it. I should know, I have seen him at work. He is truly charming and comes across as very sincere." Elizabeth grabbed Georgiana's hand. "He had me, and our entire village believing his lies. You were a _child_ when he imposed on you. I wish I had that excuse. Believe me when I say you are innocent, and anyone who does not understand that, is not worthy of you."

Georgiana could not be more grateful to hear those kind words. She leaned in and embraced Elizabeth.

"I am so glad you are come, Elizabeth. I am now afraid of when you leave. What will I do without you?"

Georgiana put her head on Elizabeth's shoulder and nestled in, taking her hand once again. And Elizabeth too, wondered what she would do when she left, as she held her dear Georgiana.


	9. Chapter 12

Hey everyone! Good news. I am all caught up and will post twice this week. Obviously, I'm posting today, and will also post on Friday. My very last chapter will be posted one week from today. It has gone by waaay too fast.

A footnote that I think is interesting is that across the pond, what we Americans refer to as the "first floor" is actually called the "main floor", and what we would call the "second floor" is called the "first floor." I have my Regency gurus to thank for that.

I truly hope that you enjoy this chapter. It is one of my favorites, right next to the introduction of Mademoiselle Adele and all the London ball and dinner flirting (love the pheasant) in Chapter 5.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The third week came, and the two ladies had settled into an agreeable routine. Georgiana had Elizabeth riding almost every day after breakfast, and Elizabeth was surprised at how much she enjoyed it. Once again, the familiar feeling of flying intrigued her, and although she was hesitant and still a bit awkward, she was able to go faster than she ever had, after learning to trust the gentle beast below her. She was able to see more of the Pemberley grounds than if she were on foot, and she came to believe that she was staying in the most beautiful place she had ever beheld.

After their daily ride, and after a bit of lunch, the ladies would relax and read. In the late afternoon, they would either play the pianoforte or practice their French, "just in case" as Elizabeth liked to joke. They decided for at least one hour each day, they would speak nothing but French, although they ended up pointing and using a lot of gestures in addition.

The servants had Sundays off, and on this particular Sunday, since there was a significant summer storm, there was no church or horseback riding. The ladies moved up "French Hour," and were in the middle of it, when Elizabeth had a very horrible idea indeed.

Georgiana loved every one of Elizabeth's horrible ideas, and could not wait to hear the newest one. They were to play Hide-and-Go-Seek, but only on the first floor and only in the bedroom wing, since they would be out of sight and earshot from Mrs. Reynolds, who was the only one home, and tucked in her own little parlor on the main floor near the kitchen.

The two stole up to the first floor with covert smiles. Taking into account the enormous size of the house—even just the bedroom wing, and knowing Georgiana definitely had the advantage, Elizabeth amended the rules: if they were five feet or closer to the hidden person, and called out loud in French, the one hiding was required to answer—in French.

It still took Elizabeth over one half hour to find Georgiana. She was behind a thick floor length curtain in one of the many corridors. Georgiana did not have to answer until Elizabeth was close enough to jump out at. They each covered their mouths as they hoped their screams did not carry down the lengthy flight of stairs, through the great hall and into Mrs. Reynolds' parlor on the opposite side of the house.

It was now Elizabeth's turn to hide, and she found herself in a substantial bedroom she had never been in before. She could hear Georgiana counting out in French far away, so she did not bother hiding herself quite yet. The room was masculine and looked lived in, as if someone actually took up residence there, though maybe not recently. Elizabeth stepped to looked out the window, but the rain made it difficult to see anything. She then walked around the room, and up to an enormous wardrobe that would be a perfect hiding place. She opened the thick doors and saw that it was filled with men's clothing.

A moment of panic seized her, thinking this could possibly be Mr. Darcy's room. But she was almost certain that his room was closer to Georgiana's, but then again, it was only mentioned the first day she arrived, and she did not have her bearings at all then. She quickly closed the wardrobe doors.

Calming herself, she looked at the objects in the room, wondering if they were used by Mr. Darcy. She picked up a pen, and held it in her hand. It comforted her to know that he might have touched it. She also saw a thick lock of hair tied in a red ribbon lying next to a stack of books. The hair was not dark enough to be Mr. Darcy's, and she wondered what sort of memento it was. It was possible that his hair was fairer in his youth, and she smiled thinking of him as a lad.

She returned the pen to its stand and walked near the bed. Elizabeth noted that it had been a couple of minutes since she heard Georgiana, when the doorknob turned. Elizabeth immediately ducked under the bed.

She did not have a view at all from where she was, but she could hear footsteps. _Heavy footsteps._ Elizabeth's heart went up into her throat.

_There was a man in the room!_

She could hear him walk over and place something on a small table. She then caught a view of his boots as he walked by the bed. He then turned and sat upon it. _Directly above her!_

Elizabeth's mind was at full gallop. Although wet, and a little muddy, those were the boots of a gentleman! She did not even want to let her mind go there, but where else could it go? _What if Mr. Darcy came home early? _ She could not think of anything more mortifying than having him find her under his bed.

She held her breath, and prayed as fervently as if she were in a grand cathedral surrounded by hundreds of flickering candles. _Please, dear Lord, let it not be Mr. Darcy!_

The next thing Elizabeth knew, a gentleman's jacket was tossed to a nearby chair. She only had one option at this time. She simply would never come out. Ever. They would discover her decomposing body in a few weeks, when it started to smell.

How could she explain herself? A woman of one-and-twenty playing a child's game. This was a _very_ horrible idea! As Elizabeth scrambled in her mind of what to do, the gentleman started to take off his boots. Elizabeth had to cover her mouth, for she was near making a noise, but she knew not whether it was an hysterical laugh or a horrified cry.

Just then she heard the door open.

"Mademoiselle Elizabeth? Etes vous ici?"

She then heard Georgiana take in a sudden breath of recognition.

"Richard!"

Georgiana ran over toward the bed and embraced her cousin. And Elizabeth was greatly relieved, at least in part, and thanked her merciful Savior for answering her desperate prayer.

"You are wet!" Georgiana cried.

"Yes, I am—very. Dear Georgiana, I looked for you, but the house seemed abandoned. I thought you were still at church, even though I could not imagine anyone going out in this storm."

"No, we have not stirred from the house all morning. What are you doing here? Not that I am _not_ happy to see you, Cousin. Elizabeth will be happy to see you as well. Have you seen her?"

"No. Have you misplaced her?" he joked.

"No, we were--" Georgiana stopped mid-sentence.

Elizabeth added to her prayer right then and there, that Georgiana would keep their little secret.

"I was showing her the bedroom wing, and I lost her…" she explained.

"And she answers to French when she is lost?"

"Oh, it is French Hour. Well, I guess it has been more than an hour. We speak only in French for at least an hour each day."

The Colonel laughed. "Well, let me change into something dry, and we will combine our terrible French and find Miss Bennet together."

"I will have you know that my French is _tres bon_."

At that very moment, Elizabeth tugged lightly on Georgiana's skirt. Georgiana jumped, but recovered quickly.

"Richard, you should not stay in this room, for it is very drafty. You must stay in the blue room, for it is much bigger and the fireplace works better," she said all in one breath.

"But I always stay in this room, Georgie. I have clothing here. I do not find it drafty at all."

"Please Richard, I am acting as Mistress of Pemberley now, and I _insist_ that you stay in the blue room. Come, get your things, and I will make sure that you are comfortable and warm," she managed with a little authority mixed with a hint of mania.

The Colonel eyed his young cousin for a few moments. Georgiana did her best not to let her face betray her, and she did not look down at Elizabeth's hand that was gesturing to get the Colonel out of the room. The Colonel smiled.

"How can I refuse the great Mistress of Pemberley? Let me gather my things."

Much to Elizabeth's relief, the door closed and she found herself alone. After she started breathing again, she extracted herself from under the bed. She brushed her dress off, and marveled that her heart was still working. She carefully opened the door and made certain that they were gone before she slid out, and closed the door silently behind her.

She tiptoed past the blue room, and met Georgiana at the stairway. They tried desperately not to laugh out loud. Elizabeth grabbed Georgiana's hand and they hurried down the stairs, only letting the laughter loose when they where safely on the main level.

"You were brilliant, Georgiana! The way you got the Colonel to change his mind was pure guile."

"I should have died for wanting to laugh, Lizzie! When you pulled on my frock, I thought I should have screamed, until I saw your hand motion toward the door. I am certain I shall not sleep a wink tonight thinking about something more sinister under _my_ bed!"

Both ladies got the remainder of their laughter out.

"What a 'remarquable' end to our French hour," Elizabeth mused.

"Oui!" Georgiana answered, wiping a gleeful tear.

Elizabeth helped Georgiana gather refreshments for the Colonel in the kitchen, when the Colonel himself walked in.

"Miss Bennet! I see that you were found. Did you leave breadcrumbs?"

The Colonel bowed, and Elizabeth smiled and curtsied.

"I was not lost, Colonel, only separated. You would think staying here for more than two weeks, I would have seen every nook and corner by now."

The Colonel looked at her in a particular manner, and it reminded Elizabeth very much of the way Bingley looked at her when he came calling at Longbourn. Like he held a secret. But this time, it was a sad secret, and Elizabeth knew it very well.

"What brings you here in this storm, Colonel?" Elizabeth questioned, trying to stop the unspoken exchange.

"Darcy sent me to check on the two of you."

He tried to measure Elizabeth's eyes when he mentioned the name, but Elizabeth, who was becoming quite accomplished at more than the pianoforte, betrayed nothing.

"We were together in town, and he asked me to stop by on my way back to Matlock. So, here I am, rudely interrupting your cozy coupling."

"Oh, it is not an interruption, Richard! We are happy to have company," interjected Georgiana.

"I am just sorry that I missed 'French Hour,'" he teased. "What _did_ I come in time for?"

"Sustenance… Sit, Colonel. Your fair cousin is getting together a dish for you," added Elizabeth. "What condition did you find the roads in?"

The Colonel went to sit, and Elizabeth joined him, letting Georgiana put together a small meal.

"They were not bad. It has been a dry summer. I am sure this wet offering will be well received."

Georgiana came to the table with a plate of bread, hard cheese, and sliced apricots.

"Thank you, Georgie. You are filling the responsibilities of Mistress of Pemberley quite handsomely," he said with a wink.

Georgiana blushed and looked down. "It is nothing. Mrs. Reynolds does everything, but she has left the menus to me, and Elizabeth helped me plan seven courses the other night." Georgiana clapped her hands. "Now that you are with us, we may plan another seven course meal!"

Elizabeth looked over at the Colonel, and not being able to ask what she truly wanted, she settled on, "How long are you staying, Colonel?"

"I have not made definite plans, although Darcy returns here on Saturday."

"Oh Richard, please stay with us for as long as you would like. We could use a third to play card games," Georgiana begged. "Maybe you will be able to entreat Elizabeth to stay a few days more with us, as she leaves on Friday. I will be so desolate without her."

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked between his eager cousin, and a more reserved, but smiling, Elizabeth.

"I certainly will stay the night, and will make a final decision when we see what the weather holds tomorrow." He turned his gaze to Elizabeth. "And as for entreating Miss Bennet to prolong her stay, I am under the impression that although a lady might have her mind made up, she certainly can review her reasonings, to make sure they are sound."

Elizabeth turned from his gaze and stared at the grain of the wood table. "I am at the mercy of my Aunt and Uncle, Colonel Fitzwilliam. For they are picking me up on their way home."

The Colonel only smiled as he took a hearty bite of bread and cheese.

The unexpected addition to their intimate party was very welcome. Colonel Fitzwilliam diverted both ladies in conversation and games. Something had shifted between he and Elizabeth. His conversation was still flirtatious, but it did not contain the underlying gravity that she had felt during the early days of their acquaintance, while they danced at the balls in London. She was relieved to feel it, and knew that she had a great friend in the Colonel, but still, certain expressions that crossed his face, or a phrase he uttered would recall another gentleman, more dear, but not dear enough…and would cause her to ache even more.

It had been almost three months since she had seen his face that was not a reflection on glass or in her mind. It was three months since his warmth washed over her, since she had sent him away, since he had left her a letter, still unread, but cherished all the same.

Elizabeth slipped her hand into her pocket, and lightly touched the familiar letter. She could feel the unbroken seal beneath her fingertip, and it gave her a fleeting moment of comfort.

Georgiana and Elizabeth played a very happy duet for the Colonel, and he clapped heartily when it ended, and the ladies curtsied several times to match the generous applause.

"So, how can we top that?" asked the Colonel. "I think the only thing that can come close would be a serious round of Hide-and-Go-Seek… or is that only played during French Hour?"

He let loose a huge sly grin, and the ladies exchanged surprised glances at each other and then at him.

"Richard! How horrible you are! How did you know?" Georgiana gasped.

"My dear Georgiana, it is always a soldier's job to know what everyone around him is up to… Besides, a true gentleman always knows when a lady is hidden underneath his bed."

Georgiana threw her hand over her mouth in shock, and Elizabeth tried not to turn the same shade as the couch beneath her. At that moment, she wished she had possessed the presence of mind to add _"or Colonel Fitzwilliam"_ to her devout prayer from under the bed.

"Why did you not pull me out yourself, Colonel?" Elizabeth asked once she was somewhat recovered, with her own repressed smile. "It was much easier getting under than getting out."

"Believe me, Miss Bennet, I was tempted to peek down and meet your eyes, but I felt it best to let you both believe I was not aware of your little game… It has been my very own secret all day."

"I am glad you have come, Cousin, even if you are quite impossible." Georgiana stood up and kissed him on the cheek. "I must go and give Cook the breakfast menu." And Georgiana left.

Both the Colonel and Elizabeth were very aware that the conversation could take a different turn, now that Georgiana was absent. Elizabeth looked around for some needlework, even though she despised the activity in general.

"Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth cringed inside, and then looked up.

"I have not seen you since April. I hope that all is well with you… and your family."

Elizabeth smiled at his gracious comment, although she knew that he was asking much more.

"I am well, Colonel. My family is well, although Longbourn is not the same place since my sister, Jane, got married."

"And do you find yourself at Netherfield more frequently?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Definitely. I know those three miles like I do my own name, although Jane usually sends a carriage for me now."

Colonel Fitzwilliam had a smile on his face that turned to seriousness. "Miss Bennet, do you consider me a friend?"

"Of course, Colonel. I consider you a very faithful friend," she calmly answered, but braced herself.

"Why do you have to leave before Darcy arrives back? And know that I have already heard your excuse about the Gardiners."

Elizabeth did not know what to say. Her aunt had tried to gently broach the subject with her unsuccessfully several times, but Elizabeth was certain that she would have a more difficult time with the Colonel's straightforward military tactic.

"So it is your job to know what those around you are up to?" she teased to ease the tension, and possibly change the subject.

"Especially when it affects those I most care about, Miss Bennet… He puts up a brave front, but he is absolutely miserable."

She did not want to hear that. The thought of Mr. Darcy in pain, pierced her very soul. She fought back tears, and met the Colonel's eyes.

"Why will you not see him?"

She could not find the words, and only looked at him helplessly.

"Is it Lady Catherine? She is inconsequential, Miss Bennet! She never need set foot again in Pemberley, believe me, Darcy has told her as much. He has not spoken to her since he confronted her for her unforgivable behavior. Please tell me that you did not heed what that unconscionable woman uttered!"

Elizabeth could not look at him further. She smoothed her dress, trying to form words from her fragmented thoughts.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, I do not mean him any harm. It pains me greatly to know that he is suffering, but you have to understand..." Elizabeth's voice trailed off to nothing.

"Miss Elizabeth!" There was surprise, but warmth in his voice. "Where is the lady that I had the pleasure of dancing with last winter? Where is the lovely, witty woman who had decided opinions, and effused confidence decades past her tender age?"

"Colonel, please… I do not think I can take this conversation any further."

"Forgive me, Miss Bennet, but I will not bow to feminine delicacies. Any other lady could start fanning herself and declaring herself unequal to such a speech, and I would be the first to rush to bring her smelling salts. But not you. I know you better than that. We are both soldiers, and have to make our own way in this unfortunate world. I will not accept that you have succumbed to the words of a conceited, cold hearted woman--who wants nothing more than to have the Darcy fortune secured by her own daughter! She is no different than any fortune-hunting mother. She is just better dressed, and in need of more fabric than most."

Elizabeth managed a small smile, and looked down.

"Please, tell me what is unequal. Do we not have embarrassing relations? Do we not have our own scandals to deal with and hush up? Do we not have our own shortcomings and faults? We are all the same. It is just ours happen in grander and draftier surroundings."

Elizabeth looked up to meet his sincere gaze. "Colonel, what if I was to say that it was not so much me believing myself as unequal to Mr. Darcy? What if I was to say that I was unequal to being placed among those who will not spare me as your aunt did not? I cannot pretend that it would be all to save _him_ from that pain. What if I chose to be spared all that for _my_ sake as well?"

The Colonel looked at her with concerned understanding. He waited for a few seconds before he spoke.

"You make a good argument, Miss Bennet, but if I were in his place, I would swear to you that no one would ever treat you ill again. No one would be allowed near you or near Pemberley who had one black thought against you," he declared with a knowing smile.

Elizabeth smiled back at him. "That would be very kind, but not only impractical, but impossible, as you well know. He could never be able to protect me from all of that. Mr. Darcy is many wonderful things, but he is not a mind reader, Colonel."

They both smiled.

"You seem to be a reluctant soldier, as am I, Miss Bennet. You may have the luxury to choose your battles carefully, but I find that the biggest and costliest ones have the most satisfying end. A great reward worth the price paid. Worth the pain."

Elizabeth's smile slipped into seriousness. "I do not want to cause him any sort of pain, Colonel."

"Yet you _do_ cause him pain, every minute you make him stay away from you."

A tear rolled down her face, which she wiped away, before she was able to speak again.

"It can be very exhausting being a soldier, can it not, Colonel?"

"Indeed, Miss Bennet. Indeed."

They both smiled once again, as Elizabeth concentrated on having no more tears in front of him.

Georgiana returned, and the ladies took their leave and retired for the evening, although Elizabeth knew that sleep would not find her, after the refreshingly honest exchange. She respected the Colonel all the more for it. She truly did consider him a faithful friend and fellow soldier.

She was right, sleep would not come easily and if the rain had not continued to pour down outside, Elizabeth would have been tempted to take a turn around the garden. After writing a long letter to Mary–hoping that she would appreciate the detailed description of Georgiana's new pianoforte and their daily French Hour—minus the unfortunate game of Hide-and-Go-Seek, she finally settled into bed and hoped that the steady drops would lull her into sleep, and stop her mind from where it wanted to go. She pictured herself at Georgiana's beautiful instrument, a precious and most thoughtful gift, and played to the rhythm of the rain.

As she imagined her fingers moving along the keys, she could think of nothing but Mr. Darcy's pain. She did not want to be the cause of his suffering. His suffering meant more to her than her own. How she wished she could erase it all. How she wished that she could have back the past three months.

Lady Catherine, enormous and obstinate, dressed in a cardinal red gown, leaned away from her, holding her cheek. Elizabeth turned on her heel, rubbing her stinging hand. She walked away only to see two horses advancing over the crest.

Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam approached. She was not sure what expression was on her face—she thought it was one of happiness upon seeing him, but Mr. Darcy was off of his horse in an instant and by her side, consoling her, comforting her. He looked beyond her at the lady who stood defiantly, with her twisted red face, and then back at his dear Elizabeth.

Without breaking his concerned gaze, he ordered his cousin to take care of Elizabeth, while he would go to confront the imposing red figure behind her. He gave her one more reassuring look before he turned to go, but Elizabeth called to him and took hold of his arm. He turned once again to meet her gaze with his deep beautiful eyes. She gasped when she saw a significant trickle of blood come down from his hairline. She took out her kerchief and reached up to gently brush it away. The contemptible woman down the path screamed for her to stay away, but that only caused Elizabeth to tend to his wound with more care. This time the crimson wiped away, and his forehead was clean once again, and he looked at her with gratefulness and awe.

Elizabeth stood in front of him, her eyes not leaving his, and her breath quickening. And without a thought, she stood on her toes and pressed her lips on his. And as she did, the shrieking lady, the horses and the Colonel melted away and soaked into the ground, leaving the cool colors of the sky and the leaves behind, as they swirled around and mixed together. Only she and the gentleman who seemed to have no end to his devotion to her existed. He breathed her in, and pulled her close… _and Elizabeth woke_.

Out of breath, she sat straight up. Her room was dark. She managed to get her bearings, and tried to get over her astonishment at such a dream, and suppress the sharp disappointment that followed waking up from it. Waiting until her breathing calmed, and her heart slowed, Elizabeth then wrapped herself tight in her blanket. She lay down once again, her cheeks still burning, and wondered if she would dream of him again… and not wake.


	10. Chapter 13

Okay folks, it's almost over. Just one more chapter! I'm gonna miss this. I hope that you are enjoying the ride…

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Colonel stayed for another two days, entertaining the ladies with colorful stories of his travels. The weather and the roads cleared, and he was off to Matlock with a promise to return on Saturday to welcome Darcy home, at Georgiana's earnest request.

Before he left, he took Elizabeth's hand and wished out loud that she would still be at Pemberley when he returned. "Perhaps the roads will delay your aunt and uncle, as they have delayed me," he added with a sparkle in his eye.

According to everyone's wishes, Elizabeth received word from her aunt that they, indeed, would not be able to come until Monday. The rain had kept them from one of their destinations, and they did not think she would mind if they made up for it. Mrs. Gardiner was well aware of Elizabeth's wishes not to be left at Pemberley, but she could not help but smile at her aunt's high handedness, and wondered if it had not been planned at the outset.

Elizabeth was in a bit of a fog, not quite knowing how she felt about his arrival. She recalled the conversation that she overheard in front of the shop in Lambton. It was Mr. Darcy's idea that Elizabeth come and stay with Georgiana. He wanted her to be at Pemberley. And now he wanted her to be there when he returned. And moreover, she was glad that she was staying—terrified, but glad. She knew not what to do or how to act, but she had three days to pull herself together.

Georgiana could not be more pleased, and she enlisted Elizabeth's help to make everything perfect for her brother's arrival. An elaborate dinner was planned, and Georgiana wanted to practice a duet to perform that night. Georgiana wanted Elizabeth play a piece by herself, but Elizabeth refused and begged her not to mention her improvement. She explained that it was a private matter, and that she was not ready to exhibit by herself until she felt more comfortable. Georgiana did not quite understand, but honored Elizabeth's wishes.

The day before Mr. Darcy's arrival, Elizabeth passed by his chambers. The door was open for the first time, as the room was being aired and new linens were already in place. The room was in keeping with the rest of the house—large and tastefully decorated. A liberal amount of green was used on the walls and in the many fabrics, which gave it an outdoor tenor. The furnishings were oversized and dark--like ancient trees amidst the various shades of leafy colors. She liked the looks of it very much. It was comforting, and it reminded her of the woods she loved so much at home.

Elizabeth felt foolish since it was simply a room, but she could not help herself from staring. Mr. Darcy would be here tomorrow. The reality of his coming struck her forcibly. There was nowhere to run here. She was over one hundred miles from home and she was now under his roof—a place she was coming to love. The more she thought about what had passed between them over the past several months and how she now felt, the more she wished she could change things. She did not care if this was a scheme of her aunts. Elizabeth _did _want to see him—with all of her being.

The days had been unusually warm, and the evenings balmy. Elizabeth could not sleep as expected that night. The moon was out and poured onto her bed. After staring at it and tracing its lines and craters for a quarter of an hour, she had yet another horrible idea. She dressed herself and she stole out into the garden. It was either that or pounding on the pianoforte--there was no question on which one would win.

The crickets chirped a mirthful chorus as Elizabeth took in the beautiful plants in the diffused light. The white roses were like globular beacons shimmering and bobbing in the soft night breeze. Mixed with the honeysuckle and gardenias, the fragrance was heavenly.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and breathed in everything she could. She turned to see Pemberley lit up by the moon. It was anything but imposing. It was immense, to be sure, but it was inviting, and right now she would be happy to call it enchanting.

She must have spent an hour walking and thinking about what the following day would bring, before she returned to her room and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

Mr. Darcy was not expected until mid-afternoon, so Elizabeth did everything she could to occupy her mind. Luckily, Georgiana was in high spirits and had Elizabeth ride with her after breakfast before the temperature became too uncomfortable. They went further than they had before, and through a wood that reminded Elizabeth of the one she had so often ran to back home. Pemberley had everything, and soon, it would have its Master.

They were met in the stables by Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had just arrived. The Colonel smiled knowingly at Elizabeth, and she tried not to color. The Colonel's health and the state of the roads were asked about. And even though Georgiana's excitement could barely be contained, Elizabeth managed to pry Georgiana from her dear cousin, so they could change.

Elizabeth washed and sat upon her bed. He was to arrive at any time. Her heart began to beat irregularly, and apprehension started to creep in. Would they be able to fall into easy conversation? Certainly with Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam the mood will be merry, for most. She once fancied that she had an abundance of courage, but Mr. Darcy seemed to put her in an altered state, from London forward. She did not know herself anymore.

Everything was in place for his arrival. Georgiana was anxious and kept moving back and forth from the window to see if she might spot him before as he approached. Elizabeth tried to read a book, but if she was to be honest with herself, she understood nothing that she read. Her mind was elsewhere.

Colonel Fitzwilliam walked into the drawing room.

"It is too fine a day to stay indoors, ladies. A breeze has come in. May I beseech either of you to take a turn with me outdoors?"

Georgiana looked at him with concern. "I do not want to be away from the house when my brother arrives, Richard. I will stay here, where I can keep watch."

The Colonel looked over at Elizabeth who had put her book down.

"Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Certainly, Colonel."

The two walked in the opposite direction of where Darcy would be approaching.

"We do not want the sight of you to cause another riding accident, do we Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth looked down and ignored his teasing. "You are quite devoted to your cousin, Colonel. Has it always been that way?"

The Colonel smiled at the question. "Yes, I would say it always has been that way. We are practically brothers, and have had our moments, but Darcy is the best sort of man. He is generous to a fault, and is just as devoted to me as I am to him. There is nothing we would not do for each other."

"How very lovely to have such a friend and relation, Colonel."

"Yes, it is."

The two talked about Pemberley, its grounds, the tenants and the former Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. The Colonel had warm words for his aunt and uncle, the former he remembered as being very accomplished on the pianoforte. He mentioned that Georgiana took after her mother in looks and in her love of music. Elizabeth was pleased to hear this account, as Georgiana's memories of her mother were very faint.

The afternoon sun was beating down hard, and even with the breeze, the pair had enough exertion. They turned and headed back to the great house. As they cut through the formal garden and rounded a large boxwood, _Mr. Darcy suddenly stood before them._

He smiled graciously at both of them, but then fixed his gaze on her. Three months absence of meeting his eyes had not prepared her for the swell of emotions that struck her. She wanted to run. She wanted to cry. She wanted to be enveloped in his arms once again. She grasped at nothing and held tight as she answered his bow with a curtsy.

"Darcy! You have arrived! We were beginning to despair of you ever showing. Georgiana could not be pried from her window these past three hours," exclaimed the Colonel.

"Georgie and I have already had our reunion. She looks remarkably well."

He once again turned to face Elizabeth.

"Miss Bennet, I am very pleased to see you. Georgiana tells me that your aunt and uncle were delayed. I hope you are not too inconvenienced," he added as he took in her face, her form, her flushed cheeks and her remarkable eyes.

"Not at all, Mr. Darcy. It is no inconvenience. Your sister, and now your cousin, have been nothing but accommodating and gracious," she managed to reply calmly with much effort.

"I am very glad to hear it." He reluctantly turned from Elizabeth and looked over at the Colonel, who was suppressing a smile.

"Georgiana sent me after you. It is time for tea."

Georgiana wanted a minute-by-minute account of what her dear brother did while away, and since the Colonel had been with him for much of it, Elizabeth was able to sit back and observe the great felicity that existed between the three.

Elizabeth was brought out of her thoughts when Hertfordshire was mentioned. Darcy had visited the newlyweds at Netherfield. Elizabeth felt a sudden sting, as she knew that _she_ was the reason he had not visited sooner.

Darcy turned toward her. "Miss Bennet, your sister has stepped into the role of Mistress of Netherfield beautifully. I was in want of nothing while under her watchful eye."

"Yes. You cannot praise Jane too highly for me, Mr. Darcy. I am very pleased and proud of her."

"She misses you, Miss Bennet. She bade me to tell you so, if I should see you, and to give you the intelligence that her promised letter is coming soon." His eyes looked at her so tenderly, so gently that she barely perceived she was staring at him. She caught herself, and recovered quickly.

"Thank you, sir. I always look forward to Jane's letters."

At that moment, a wave of shame came over Elizabeth for never having opened his letter, or properly responding to it. She had good reason, though it now seemed weak and selfish. For she feared that she would fall off of the edge of the earth, and would never be able to find her way back again. She did not know if it spoke of his undying love, or if it released her fully. Back in April, she could face neither.

Elizabeth excused herself after tea and went up to her room. She sat upon her bed and reached in her pocket for the precious item. It was well worn, yet still sealed. That small letter had a great hold on Elizabeth. She could imagine whatever she wanted the contents to be. And it was always in flux along with Elizabeth.

If she needed reassurance of her decision to ask him to stay away, she would imagine that the letter contained his full agreement. He graciously noted the vast differences in their stations in life, he saw the astute reasoning behind her decision, thanked her for her prudence, and wished her a blessed life.

If she needed reassurance that his regard was not a fancy of her imagination, if she wanted to remember what his eyes betrayed every time he looked her way, his letter was filled with heart felt passionate words, begging her to not to dismiss him, not to condemn him to a life without love, without her, without the sun.

She held his letter tenderly and pressed it up against her chest.

She knew what it said to her today. She saw it in his eyes once more. There was no question of how he felt. There never was. What a fool she has been! Written or spoken words could never do his eyes justice. She was suddenly hit with a powerful certainty. _What he wrote to her in April does not matter_, because what she wrote to him in April no longer matters. Too much has happened. Too much has changed. She already had everything she needed to know. The one thing she was sure of was Mr. Darcy, and he was downstairs right now.

Elizabeth slid the unopened letter back into her pocket.

Dinner was absolutely lovely. But even more so was Georgiana, who sat at the opposite end from her brother, beaming. As each course was brought out, her brother and the Colonel would compliment her on her choice, and of the elegant arrangements. Georgiana blushed, but explained that Elizabeth was just as involved as she was, if not more. Elizabeth immediately put the praise back on her hostess with all graciousness.

"I do not doubt their equal involvement, Darcy. You should hear the duets they have played for me. They are quite the pair," Colonel Fitzwilliam remarked.

"I must hear one of these duets after dinner, if you are so inclined," added Darcy with a generous smile.

"We have been practicing one for days with the hopes of playing it for you tonight," Georgiana enthused. "Elizabeth brought me a gift of several duets among other pieces when she arrived. We have been very occupied."

"Have you heard of 'French Hour,' Cousin?" the Colonel teased.

Elizabeth shot him a look, which made him only smile wider. Darcy looked at both of them, and developed his own smile along with a curious look.

Georgiana came to her rescue. "Richard is being intolerable, Brother. He happened upon us during our daily French practice. We speak nothing but French for an hour each day—I wrote to you about it. I have improved greatly. _Vous ne pensez pas?_"

Something occurred to Georgiana, and she decided to have her own horrible idea. French Hour should now include everyone present. So, after a superb performance of the duet on the pianoforte, the evening passed with Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam trying to tell stories of their childhood within those restrictions. There were more hand motions and pointing than there was actual French, but it was a jolly party and everyone laughed and enjoyed themselves.

Elizabeth felt it only proper to retire at the same time as Georgiana, even though she was far from tired. She reluctantly said her goodnights and briefly met Mr. Darcy's eyes. He was silently asking her something and she wanted desperately to answer, but knew not how. She smiled slightly before she quit the room arm-in-arm with Georgiana.

Once in her room, Elizabeth started a letter to Charlotte, for she had been corresponding by means of Maria, and now she could send letters from Lambton without any suspicion. Charlotte would have a child in late fall, and Elizabeth was very happy for her. Lady Catherine was not mentioned by name, but apparently, she did not make any more surprise visits at the cottage, and ceased all interference with Charlotte's housekeeping.

_At least something redeeming had come out of her visit._ Elizabeth did not know what to relay to Charlotte about her Derbyshire visit now that Mr. Darcy was present, for she knew that she could not simply discuss French Hour and duets. They were past that. Charlotte would require more, and Elizabeth had nothing to share beyond a pleasant evening and a brief glance. She sighed and put down her pen.

Elizabeth stood up and walked over to the window. Why had she made such a mess of things? Why could she not receive him in London? Why did she let Lady Catherine affect her so? She hated to think of her actions now. She looked down at the garden below. The moon was even brighter tonight, and the flowers nodded and swayed under the soft spotlight. It bid her to come once again, and she could not resist its luminescent call.

As she silently glided by the drawing room, she could hear the gentlemen who still occupied it. She held her breath until she was safely outside. The balmy night air was perfumed with the various flowers in bloom. Elizabeth wandered the garden, her bare feet feeling the cool grass beneath her, and her lungs took in the heady floral scents. She wanted to fill her room with the same fragrances, so this time she was armed with a small pair of scissors and some ribbon. She gathered whatever her senses craved and tried to not think about anything else. She tried not to think about how she felt when he walked into a room. She tried not to think about how his eyes kept finding their way over to her no matter where she moved. And she tried not to think about what she would dream about if she did finally fall asleep tonight.

Darcy and the Colonel parted in the hall on the bedroom wing, each tired from their earlier journeys. Darcy passed by Elizabeth's room and noted that no light came from under the door. Tonight went well. Elizabeth stayed—even if not by choice, and even though they had no private conversation, she did not seem distressed. He was simply pleased that she was at Pemberley. He was simply pleased.

He had waited months for this day. He had waited for this chance to once again find a way to let the woman that he loved know that she was safe, she was appreciated, and she was worth one hundred Lady Catherines. How he kept his wits about him this evening, he knew not. For Elizabeth wore soft white, and her eyes took on the greenish hue of the walls when she was near them, and then the clear blue of Georgiana's gown when she sat next to her at the pianoforte.

But there was something reserved about her, in her looks and conversation. Although she smiled and laughed, she was hesitant, and did not give herself over fully to the gayety of the evening. Although she played beautifully with his sister at the pianoforte, she was holding back. He did his best to make her comfortable, and not bring up anything or any place that might cause her pain. Kent was not spoken of. Many things were not spoken of.

He closed his door and took his jacket off. Diffused light spilled through his window, and he moved toward it. Tonight the moon was full and still low in the sky. The view from his room was a grand one, as it should. The formal garden under the watchful eye of the silvery globe was lovely, and he absently stared out as his thoughts were elsewhere. He was making up his mind exactly what he would do and say tomorrow, when something caught his eye and then his breath. A small white figure was moving through the garden.

"Elizabeth," he breathed.

He watched in wonder as she floated down below him, gathering flowers and placing one in her hair. He thought it months ago, and how could anyone deny it? She was mythical in gossamer white, and he was certain her feet were not touching the ground. He blinked thinking she would disappear, but the amazing vision continued to tease and torture him. She stepped into the path of the moonlight, and turned to gaze up at it. As he watched in reverence from his window above, the great celestial entity illuminated her and transformed her into something extraordinary. If he thought Elizabeth was never more beautiful in the rain, and then again in the morning sun, he had no concept of what the moon could do. She was more than a vision. She was flesh and bone. She was tangible. She was real, and he could stand it no longer.

He hurried to get his jacket back on. He buttoned it up, and looked at his reflection. He tugged at his jacket, ran his fingers through his hair, and turned to go out into the hall, having no plan whatsoever.

He hastened down the flight of stairs to get to the ground level. He turned the corner to go down the darkened hall, _when he almost ran over Elizabeth._ They both stood breathless with less than a foot between them, looking at each other in shock. The fragrance of the flowers quickly filled the space between them.

"Miss Bennet!" he said in a low shocked voice.

She was barefoot, holding a bouquet wrapped in ribbon in one hand, and her slippers in the other. She looked down at the flowers and back at him. Standing there, so close to him, she could not stop thinking about her dream, which made her blush and kept her from forming any coherent thought. She was very grateful that it was mostly dark, so her rising color would not give her away.

"I am sorry. I could not sleep, and the moon was so bright…" She stopped without finishing.

"It is very bright outside," he agreed awkwardly.

He could not help but simply stare at her, and both of their breathing increased.

"I should go," the lady said, though she did not want to.

"Please, Miss Bennet. Please, let me speak with you," he pleaded.

Elizabeth looked up at him. His eyes took hers hostage, she could not move if she had wanted.

"My aunt…" he halfway whispered.

"It is all forgotten," she barely breathed back.

"Is it really? Elizabeth?" He searched her eyes.

The sound of him saying her name undid her. She could not think. Once again, she could not get enough breath.

Darcy reached over carefully and touched her cheek with his fingers. He slid them down along her jaw line, and she could feel the warm tingling trail they left behind.

"You are not yourself. I have been waiting, but I was afraid you would forget me." He stepped in even closer.

Elizabeth could not look away from him, but she could find no words. He completely stunned her. She marveled that she was still standing.

"Please tell me you have not forgotten me, Elizabeth…"

He bent down to her face, still searching her eyes, his lips nearing hers when footsteps were heard from behind, and a light source moved their way. Darcy immediately straightened up and turned around. Elizabeth caught her breath and took two steps back, while the footman approached holding a candelabrum. She bent down and quickly slipped on her shoes.

"Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley has arrived and requests to see you immediately."

Darcy processed what was said. "Certainly, Ford, please tell him that I will be right there."

The footman's words snapped Elizabeth out of her state. Her thoughts went immediately to Jane.

The footman bowed and walked away, taking most of the light with him. Darcy turned and faced Elizabeth who looked shocked, and had a tear rolling down her face.

"Forgive me, Miss Bennet. Please forgive me…" He was torn. Her look frightened him. "I must go and see Bingley."

"Please, Sir, I need to see him as well. For I fear it is bad news, and he is now family."

Darcy could see her concern, and hoped that Bingley's sudden arrival was the reason for the tear, and not the liberty he took with her.

"Of course. Follow me." Darcy led the way through the dark corridor until they reached the foyer.

Mr. Bingley had his gloves in hand and was pacing across the great marble entryway. Darcy let Elizabeth enter first before he spoke.

"Bingley! What brings you here? Is everything alright, for I fear you have startled Miss Bennet with your presence."

Elizabeth stepped forward with concern running across her face.

"Please, Charles, is Jane alright?"

Bingley looked over at Elizabeth, who held a bouquet at her side, and then back at Darcy. He was not sure if he should speak or not.

"Miss Elizabeth, do not be distressed, Jane is perfect… I mean she is well." He looked between them again. "I meant to meet with Darcy first, before I talked with you, but maybe it is best this way."

"Please tell me," Elizabeth begged.

Bingley looked at Darcy once again before he met Elizabeth's eyes. "This is about your sister, Lydia. It seems that she has run off."

"Run off? Where?" Darcy demanded.

"She left a note for Kitty stating that she was off to be with Mr. Wickham," he explained.

"Mr. Wickham?!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "But I thought that he was gone!"

Darcy moved toward Elizabeth. "Bingley, let us move this conversation into the drawing room, where Miss Bennet can be more comfortable."

They quickly moved to the drawing room, which was still lit. Once they were all seated, Bingley continued his story.

"As you know, Mr. Wickham has not been around for a couple of months now, but Lydia heard rumors that he was stationed in Newcastle, in the north. She had put together her pin money along with Kitty's and has most likely journeyed north."

Elizabeth simply stared at Bingley, her mouth agape.

"Apparently, there had been some attachment on her side before he disappeared," he explained. "Others knew of it… before."

Elizabeth started at the last sentence. "Who knew about it?"

"Well… I did. And your father. I happened upon them. Kitty was stationed on the road to keep watch. I surmised that something was amiss, and found Wickham with Lydia in the woods."

Elizabeth stood up. "Oh, how could I be so blind?! I saw the very same thing!" She started to pace. "Kitty told me that Lydia was right behind her tying her lace. I knew something was not right, but I did not figure it out. How blind I am!"

"Please Elizabeth, do not berate yourself. I went straight to your father. You saw me. I asked you to stay with Jane. We… uhm… the situation was taken care of shortly thereafter. He was sent very far away. Your father chose the destination."

Elizabeth looked at Bingley with recognition in her eyes. "Wickham disappeared right after that. And Lydia… Lydia cried for days together! Why did _I_ not put it together?"

"I am certain that you had other things to occupy your mind, Miss Bennet," added Darcy with kindness.

"But where is he? There were so many rumors. Will Lydia find him?" she inquired in earnest.

"No. She will not find him, Elizabeth. At least we do not have to worry about that," Bingley answered.

"What has been done to find Lydia? How long has she been gone?" Darcy asked.

"She left the day before last. She was not missed until dinner, when her note was found, and I was immediately summoned by Mr. Bennet. We sent an express to Mr. Gardiner to come help with the search, and I set off that night for here."

Bingley stood up to meet Elizabeth.

"I am leaving the carriage for you to take home, Elizabeth. Your mother is not well, and Jane has asked for your help in caring for her. She would have come with me, so you would have had a companion, but your mother cannot do without her. My servants will take prodigious care of you. You will be quite safe."

He then turned to look at Darcy.

"I was hoping that you would be able to--"

Darcy stood up and interrupted.

"You do not need to ask, Charles. I will talk with my coachman, and rouse Richard. We can be ready to go in an hour if you would like."

"Absolutely not! Mr. Darcy, you do not need to involve yourself in this… this madness. And certainly not Colonel Fitzwilliam. Why must he know about this?"

Darcy looked over at Elizabeth who was mortified.

"Miss Bennet, once again, I am inadvertently responsible for this. You know my feelings on this matter. And believe me, Colonel Fitzwilliam is not a stranger to Mr. Wickham's ill behavior. We warned Mr. Wickham, we gave him every opportunity to behave, but he is never to be trusted."

"What do you mean, 'we' warned him?" Suddenly, her father's letter flashed in front of her.

"_Wickham claimed to not be able to identify the attackers. But witnesses, who saw no faces, just dark figures, reported there were three."_

Three. It happened in March, during Jane's honeymoon, less than two weeks after her horrible encounter. The lock of hair tied in a red ribbon in Colonel Fitzwilliam's room, suddenly claimed its former owner.

Elizabeth looked up at both of them, as they looked at each other and back to her. Her mind reeled. Could _she_ be the reason Bingley left Jane in Bath? Elizabeth was alarmed and relieved at the same time. Bingley had kept a secret from his bride, but it was to save the honor of her beloved sister. She blushed at the thought of Mr. Darcy exacting revenge on the man who assaulted her, and winced at the danger that all three had placed themselves in. She was humbled. She was jarred. She was in awe.

She sat down once again, and tried to make sense of the rush of information that was fighting for a seat in her head.

"Miss Bennet, we are already half way to Newcastle. We will stop at every post along the way and inquire about your sister. She will be found. She will be safe. Please let us be of some service to you and your family," Darcy explained, while Elizabeth stared at him in wonder.

Bingley kneeled before his new sister. "Do not worry Elizabeth, you may count on all of us not to speak of this to anyone else. Remember that we are family now."

Darcy moved. "I will wake Richard," he said before he quit the room. Elizabeth waited until he was gone before she spoke again.

"I am sorry that you have married into such a troublesome lot," she added.

"Did I not bring in my own trouble, '_Miss Eliza_?'" he joked with a clear smile.

Elizabeth managed a matching smile. "Yes, you did, Charles. Yes, you did."

The gentlemen were off within the hour. Georgiana was woken, briefly told why and where they were going, and said her tearful goodbyes. There was such a rush around them, and Elizabeth was being mindful of Georgiana that she realized that she did not say goodbye to Mr. Darcy personally, or express her gratitude for his involvement until it was too late.

She watched helplessly as the carriage pulled away, all the while comforting Georgiana who was clinging to her. Elizabeth thought about the dim hallway filled with the sweet scents from the garden, and how his profound eyes dipped deeply into hers. She could sense his hesitant breath against her skin. She could hear her name whispered from his lips and it echoed in her mind. And she could still feel the trail his fingers left on her cheek, and the tear that quickly followed. The tear was not for fear of bad news from home. The tear was bitter disappointment. It was as if she woke from her beautiful dream again. She stood holding Georgiana until the carriage disappeared from view, and wiped another tear away.

*

**Get over the letter, people!** (She says with great affection.) It's not over until it's over…


	11. Chapter 14Finished!

What will I do with myself now that this is done? Oh yah, keep working on my next book--sorry the new one is not JAFF, but that doesn't mean I won't do another one later. I'm thinking I could go modern…

Many heartfelt thanks to all of you who have kept up with this story and for encouraging me along the way. I truly will miss you. Enjoy the last chapter!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

As much as Elizabeth did not want to leave Georgiana behind, she could not expose her fragile friend to her mother and her nervous fits. She reluctantly left her at Pemberley, knowing that she would be in good hands with Mrs. Reynolds, and praying that the gentlemen would recover Lydia quickly.

Longbourn was exactly as expected. Mrs. Bennet kept to her room, demanding everything and everyone revolve around her. The lady was certain that either pirates, gypsies or the French had infiltrated Hertfordshire and somehow got to her "dearest girl," and made her act in a way that was most unlike her. She demanded over and over again to be shown Lydia's note, and convinced herself that even though it appeared to be Lydia's hand, that it was most certainly written under duress.

Jane and Mary had stopped arguing with her on that point the day prior to Elizabeth's arrival, although Mrs. Bennet repeated her theory to Elizabeth in hopes in finding a partner in her outlandish suppositions. Elizabeth simply made her mother comfortable, shot Jane and Mary silently exasperated looks, and went in search of the good wine.

Mr. Bennet had gone to every post between Longbourn and London, where he was joined by Mr. Gardiner, who helped him search London proper. For even combining her pin money with Kitty's for the past two or so months would not get Lydia very far.

Jane and Mary attended their mother faithfully while Kitty pouted in a corner, since she was receiving a good amount of blame from everyone for accommodating the secret relationship, and providing Lydia with money for her fool's errand.

Kitty cried in Elizabeth's arms and explained that Lydia claimed it was true love, and that Wickham meant to marry her before he left suddenly. Lydia was certain that it was only Father forbidding him to contact Lydia, that he did not write. She had it in her head, as soon as she heard rumors he was in Newcastle, to join him there. Elizabeth wanted to berate Kitty as well, but stroked her hair instead, and told her that Wickham was the very best at deception, and never meant to marry Lydia.

Mrs. Bennet had finally fallen asleep. Not so much from exhaustion, for her nerves were in excellent shape, being exercised often and could continue their tirade for hours and hours without rest. It was with the gentle help of a few glasses of the good wine that she eventually dozed off, and the eldest sisters happily sought privacy in Elizabeth's room. Jane would stay the night with Elizabeth, since her mother might wake and call for her at any hour.

Now that the two were finally alone, Jane was able to tell Elizabeth that she now had full knowledge of her dear husband's dealings with Wickham. Elizabeth was relieved, and talked of her last night at Pemberley, and how shocked she was to learn that _she_ was the reason behind Wickham's mysterious attack last spring. She asked Jane how she felt about it—not only how she felt about finding out why Bingley lied to her about his destination, but how she felt about _what_ he had done.

Jane smiled. "You might be surprised, Lizzy, but I was very relieved. Charles meant to protect me, not wanting to distress me with the story of what happened to you, and also thinking that I would not approve of what he was up to."

"But do you… approve of what he did?"

"Yes, Lizzy! I feel it was a very honorable thing to do," Jane enthused, surprising Elizabeth, indeed. "And besides, it was all for you!" She added with a grin.

"I owe your husband so much, Jane. He has taken so much upon himself, now that he is part of this family."

Jane looked at her curiously. "Lizzy, of course Charles would do anything for you, but you must know that it was _all_ Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy was behind everything. Not only in defending your honor along with Charles and Colonel Fitzwilliam—which I understand the Colonel enjoyed probably more than he should have," explained Jane with a mischievous smile, "but Mr. Darcy has been tracking Mr. Wickham's debts for months. It was quite a tedious process. He has gone to Mr. Wickham's previous residences over the past few years and found dozens of tradesmen as well as private citizens whom he owed money to. The 'warning' that they gave him in March, was to tell him what was to come, and to scare him into not bothering any more ladies."

Elizabeth looked at Jane in wonder, not fully being able to receive the information. The three gentlemen exacting revenge in the veiled shadows of Meryton for Elizabeth and Georgiana; and Mr. Darcy, traveling and collecting information for months. It was beyond her.

Jane continued. "But when Charles found him with Lydia in May, he had to meet with Mr. Darcy to figure out how to deal with him immediately. Even though Mr. Darcy knew he could find more debts, he knew he had enough to throw Mr. Wickham in debtor's prison…"

Elizabeth took in a deep breath, full of shock. "Mr. Wickham is in debtor's prison?"

Jane smiled. "He could be, but Mr. Darcy gave him a choice: they would turn him in with all the documentation and he would go to debtor's prison, or Mr. Darcy would buy all his debts, and he would be sent to Australia to do hard labor on a plantation."

"No!" Elizabeth said under her breath, but with a great smile. She then remembered what Bingley told her before the gentlemen left Pemberley.

"Did Papa choose Australia, Jane?"

"Yes! How did you know?"

"Your Mr. Bingley told me… I cannot believe that Papa was in on all of this! Jane, I feel like I have been stumbling around blind for months. How could all of this go on under my nose, without me knowing about it?"

"I have been in the dark with you, Lizzy. Charles did not explain anything until Lydia went missing. I feel the same as you."

"Yes, but you have the excuse of not living here anymore. I saw Lydia's secrecy and then her tears. I even saw Papa's smirks when he would walk by and hear Lydia wailing. I could not figure it out, but now I can surmise that he would retreat to his study and find Australia in his atlas, and toast the distance over a glass of port."

The two sisters laughed, and then realized they were in danger of waking their mama, so they quieted.

Jane looked at Elizabeth curiously. "Lizzy, how do you feel about Mr. Darcy taking all of that upon himself?"

Elizabeth sighed, and lay back on the bed. "I feel unworthy."

"Lizzy…"

"No, please listen, Jane. I feel unworthy, only because of how I have treated him. I forbade him to see me, and he did not even come to visit at Netherfield for fear of disturbing me. He was hunting down all of Wickham's debts, listening to countless mortifying stories about his escapades, while I was being unreasonable and selfish."

"How were you being selfish?"

"I was so scared of failing, Jane. I did not want to humiliate Mr. Darcy with an unfit wife, but at the same time, I did not want to have to face Lady Catherine or anyone remotely like her again. I wanted to be safe. I wanted to be sheltered by the trees in the wood once again. I was acting like a child."

"I would not necessarily call that selfish, Lizzy."

"It is if it hurts someone. It is selfish if the other person involved is out there being humiliated on your behalf."

Jane sat up straight. "Tell me, Lizzy, what are you thinking now?"

"I was just wishing I could blame the same French-gypsy-pirates whom Mama thinks caused Lydia's bad behavior."

Jane smiled but did not give up. "Lizzy, do be serious. What will you do?"

"What do you mean, Jane?"

"You know exactly what I mean. Will you see me at Netherfield if Mr. Darcy comes to visit? And would you receive him at Longbourn if he came to call on you?"

"Jane, I do not think we should be anticipating anything like that, until our sister is recovered… Stupid girl! Could we have written a script and hired players who could make us look any more foolish and undesirable?"

Elizabeth smiled, to which Jane sighed and lay down next to her.

Another day went by before they received news by express. The letter was addressed to Elizabeth. She opened the letter from her father, with Jane and Mary present. She read the first few lines to herself, and exclaimed out loud.

"They have found Lydia!"

"Oh Lizzy, please do not keep it to yourself," pleaded Mary.

"I am sorry, Mary, I was not thinking." She started from the beginning and read aloud.

"_My dearest Lizzy,_

_We just got word by express that your sister was found in Huntingtonshire, north of London. She had run out of funds, and had been sheltered by a semi-goodhearted innkeeper, who knew she would get paid for Lydia's room and board, if her family could be found. _

_Once discovered, Lydia was adamant that she be taken to Newcastle and not be brought back to Longbourn. It took some monumental effort on the gentlemen's behalf to convince Lydia that Mr. Wickham was no longer in the country, and that he would never have married her. Dozens of signed and sworn statements of unpaid debts, amounting to thousands, were shown to her, trying to make her see that he was only looking to marry a woman of fortune, like Miss King, or Miss Darcy, but to no avail. What finally brought her around were the three signed statements, from three young unfortunate women, who each bore a child of his. Two girls and a boy. The oldest child being five years in age. _

_Your sister is now being escorted by the three very generous gentlemen to London, where she will remain for a few days with me at the Gardiners. I do not have a well-formed plan as of yet, but I do think it will involve one human sitting quietly and humbly, while the other paces, points and pontificates. _

_Forgive me, dear child, for not taking better care and stopping silly and idle behavior. I should have heeded Mr. Darcy's note in late December, when he warned that my girls might be targets for unscrupulous soldiers. It was idle talk he overheard, and I did not dismiss it fully, requiring that you go out in pairs. But I should have known Lydia's drive for attention and Kitty's weakness. They should have never been out on their own. They should have not been out in society at all. _

_Well, hindsight and all that goes with it will weigh on me, as it should, but probably not as long as it should… _

_We will arrive back in Hertfordshire on Monday. Until then, tell your mama to save some good wine for me._

_Yours most humbly,_

_Papa" _

Elizabeth put the letter down. There was too much to take in. Mr. Darcy wrote to him after she went to London with the Gardiners in December, to make sure her sisters were safe. She now knew why her father did not want her to go out by herself when she returned. She felt ashamed that she did not listen to him.

"Well, it could have ended much worse," she confessed.

"Wickham has three natural children?" whispered Jane in shock.

"That were found, Jane," added Elizabeth.

"How long do you think she would have stayed at the inn if she was not found?" wondered Mary. "Did she think she could write and receive this month's pin money from father?" she asked shaking her head.

"Who knows what is in the mind of that girl," complained Elizabeth. "How I wish I could hear what Papa will say to her!"

All three sisters smiled at the thought.

"I should go to Mama," Jane interjected. "She needs to know that Lydia is safe."

Jane left the room, and Elizabeth smiled at Mary.

"Mary, I have a feeling that Lydia may return hearing more sermons than Fordyce himself concocted."

Darcy was exhausted, and had not slept but a few hours the past three days. Lydia was recovered, and safely deposited at the Gardiners. Even though their characters could not be more different, Lydia did resemble Elizabeth the most physically of all her sisters. He found it difficult to be around her, but he could not help but wonder at her when she fell asleep in the carriage. Lydia's dark hair, her delicate nose and her mouth were very much like Elizabeth's. Her still and sleeping frame helped him remember who inspired him—whom all this was for. And it also became clear to him why Wickham would choose Lydia after Elizabeth rejected him. He was exacting revenge on her without her even knowing it. Darcy smiled briefly, knowing where Wickham was now, and hoped everything that he heard was true about that cruel, vast wasteland.

They were to take Bingley back to Netherfield where they would spend the night, and then travel to Pemberley, where Georgiana anxiously awaited them. He was loath to be parted from her. She did not like to be alone although Mrs. Reynolds was always around for her. But even good Mrs. Reynolds' presence was very different than having a friend, a companion, or an honorary sister, as Georgiana referred to Elizabeth in her many letters.

While Bingley and Fitzwilliam nodded off in the dark carriage, Darcy could not think of anything but Elizabeth's face after she learned who was responsible for Wickham's attack. She simply stared and said nothing. He could not believe that he could be so unguarded as to give out that information in front of her. They were so careful to cover their tracks, and to ride separately, so no one could place them all together. _What must she think of him, ambushing people in the dark and taking their queues as trophies? _

Darcy thought further back that same evening, before his footman interrupted them. When he leaned in and touched her cheek. Elizabeth said nothing when he asked if she had forgotten him. He did everything he could to read her face, and he was seconds away from kissing her, but now he doubted everything. Her breathing could have been labored because she was frightened of him. The tear that came down her cheek when they were interrupted, may not have been for Jane. She might have been relieved that she was spared. The footman might have saved her. He had seen her tears before, after another man kissed her.

Elizabeth had not stayed at Pemberley by her own decision. She had no choice. Was she simply rising to the occasion out of duty? She was reserved, but he thought it was only because it was the first time they had seen each other in months. She had not wanted Darcy to join the search party. Was that out of concern for him, or concern that he was intruding into her family's private business? Was he only reading what he wanted to see? He could not trust his judgment anymore.

Darcy finally fell into a fitful sleep and was only awakened when they arrived at Netherfield.

It took several days for Mrs. Bennet's nerves to quit their miserable state. They actually took a turn for the worse when Lydia returned home, for Mrs. Bennet had secretly hoped that Lydia would have been able to find Wickham, and would have married. So instead of receiving a married daughter, she received a disagreeable, headstrong girl, who was set on ruining the family. And she spoke of it loudly, and quite often.

Kitty was swiftly sent to the Gardiners in London. Mr. Bennet felt it best to separate the two youngest if they were ever to get them to think straight, or have a sensible word spoken. She would be kept on a tight rein there—no balls, no parties unless it was a family affair with very few, if any, young men.

Lydia was to remain at Longbourn with no end in sight. She would take her studies seriously, and if she could not recite certain things at the end of each day, she would risk never regaining her monthly pin money. Balls were strictly forbidden, and even Meryton was out of reach until she could prove that she could be out in public without bringing ridicule upon her family. The example would have to start at home. Hang the French-gypsy-pirates.

Lydia was not an apt student, and exclaimed most frequently that everyone was terribly cruel and meant to make her life miserable. Elizabeth should not have been surprised that Lydia could not learn how to behave overnight, even after such a jarring lesson. Unfortunately, the pianoforte did not always drown out her youngest sister, so Elizabeth retreated often to Netherfield.

Mr. Bingley had returned even before Lydia did, and it was lovely to see Jane reunited with the man who was so devoted to her. The secrets that came between the newlyweds and caused Jane unease, were now aired out, and Elizabeth was certain they were even happier. She had a new respect for her brother-in-law, whom she previously thought was rather simple, but, indeed, generous and goodhearted. She now saw the complexities that Jane had seen, and once again, marveled at her own blindness.

Without asking directly, Elizabeth found out that Mr. Darcy returned to Pemberley to be with Georgiana. Elizabeth was relieved that her dear friend would not be alone for long, for Georgiana was indeed distressed to hear that even though an ocean or two away, Mr. Wickham was still able to leave behind him a wide path of destruction. And although she was glad that Georgiana was being comforted by her brother, Elizabeth wished the same for herself.

A few weeks went by, and with each day that Darcy did not come to Hertfordshire, Elizabeth plunged deeper into disappointment. Could Lydia's flight after Wickham be the last straw in her family's misadventures? Elizabeth cringed when she thought of Lydia's defiance to accompany the gentlemen back to Longbourn after they had searched for three full days for her. Elizabeth knew Lydia's mouth too well. A mere five minutes with her would betray how selfish and out-of-control that child was. If Elizabeth wished a good portion of the time that _she_ not be related to her, how much more would Mr. Darcy?

Could Elizabeth's reserve and lack of words at Pemberley be playing into his absence? He asked her if she had forgotten him, and she gave him no answer. She was lost in his wonderfully expressive eyes, but what a time for her sharp tongue to get stuck! She was sick about it, and prayed for another chance to show him just how grateful she was and how she had not forgotten about him.

And she would _never_ forget about him. He was sealed into her heart, her head and her memory with more permanence than she could stand. She could recall every detail of his voice, his face, and the precise color of his eyes without trying, and it was driving her mad. She could not lay down without him taking over her subconscious and running away with it and with her. Nothing existed for her without him. In an attempt to have some semblance of normalcy, Elizabeth threw herself into her music even more than before.

Most of her time was spent on the Bingley's pianoforte. Jane had seen her sister sink deeper and deeper—though Elizabeth tried to hide it. So Jane sent for her clothes two days prior, insisting that she stay with them for at least a week. Elizabeth basked in the quiet and peacefulness that Netherfield provided along with the warmth of her sister. She began to think that she would never go back to Longbourn, and it seemed that Jane wanted it that way too.

Jane appeared at the door of the drawing room while Elizabeth was practicing.

"Lizzy, get dressed for dinner. I had one of your gowns pressed for you."

Elizabeth looked out the window, the sun was still out though it threatened rain.

"It is too early for dinner."

Jane smiled. "Go get dressed. Penny will help with your hair, and you know that even though she does a good job, she takes her time. You may come back here and play if you are done early," her sister pressed.

Elizabeth looked at Jane quizzically. "Jane, you should not waste Penny on me and my insufferable locks."

"Nonsense. You have much more hair than I. She will come to me right after. I insist. Please Lizzy, I have a lovely meal planned tonight, and you shall play your beautiful songs for us after dinner. I will not let you be despondent tonight."

Elizabeth was about to argue, but she could see great resolve in her sister's countenance. Elizabeth could only smile, as she knew that it was useless. Jane certainly was the sun, as she stood in front of her beaming. She married the man she loved. She was the great Mistress of Netherfield, and now she was directing her stubborn sister to dress for dinner.

Elizabeth stood up and gave Jane a kiss on the cheek. "Yes, your ladyship," she teased as she left the room.

The low sun came in through her west-facing window, and illuminated the far wall and everything in its path. Something brilliant caught Elizabeth's eye as she walked in. Hanging in the corner of her room, pressed perfectly and gleaming like an emerald, was Elizabeth's green dress. She caught her breath. _Not that gown!_

Just looking at it caused her great pain. She did not even know it was packed. She had put it in the bottom of her closet under her oldest frocks at Longbourn. How did Betsy find it? She looked around for another gown, but none of them were ready to be worn.

She walked back over to the dress and touched the soft silk. She remembered how Mr. Darcy looked at her, how he could not stop looking at her, and she reddened at the thought. _Stupid dress!_ She wanted to take the dress back to Mademoiselle Adele and throw it at her. She wanted to accuse her of shoddy work and split seams, but the exquisite gown contradicted her thoughts. It fit her perfectly. It complimented her skin and her figure, and brought out her eyes. It swayed gently and softly rustled with each step she took. She never felt more beautiful then when she wore it that night at Rosings.

No. _She could not bear to wear it._ She was about to go find Jane when Penny came in.

"Oh, Miss Bennet, all of the maids downstairs could not stop speaking of your dress! I was actually afraid to press it, but it is not as delicate as it appears," she enthused.

Penny moved over to the dressing table and started to put out some ribbons, flowers, and jeweled hairpins.

"Mrs. Bingley has provided you with many pretty baubles for your hair. Come sit, and we will see what will suit you best."

Penny motioned for Elizabeth to come over. Elizabeth hesitated, but then knew that Jane, and all her bright beams, would only send her back to Penny. So she took her seat reluctantly, and tried to recall a Latin verse where you _were_ allowed to argue with the sun, or at least the moon or a flickering star.

*

Darcy rode on horseback from London, and the rain finally caught up to him. Bingley had sent an invitation for him to come stay at Netherfield, since Georgiana had gone back to school for the season. Nothing was said about Elizabeth, but Darcy could imagine that once again, if he were to be there, then she would not be.

How could she, after the liberty he took with her? He could not look upon his actions without mortification. She was stranded at Pemberley against her wishes. She did her best to act at ease, most likely to please Georgiana. And when he cornered her in the darkened hall, she told him that the incident with Lady Catherine was forgotten, but at what cost? She could not look at him without remembering how his relation treated her. It was only forgot if he was. And she did not answer—either his letter or his question. What was he thinking setting her up like that? At least she did not know of the plot. He hoped.

He arrived soaked through at Netherfield, and told the servant not to announce him yet. He would go straight to his room to change first. The servant bowed, and Darcy started down the hall.

As he passed through the long corridor, wondrously mesmerizing music came from the drawing room. He was perplexed at who could be at the instrument. It was no one he was familiar with. He was certain that Jane did not play. The sensation was both magnificent and excruciating at the same time. It was tragically beautiful, and Darcy was drawn to it.

He made his way to the drawing room, and opened the door quietly.

At the pianoforte, facing away from him and dressed in deep green silk, was Elizabeth. How very well he knew the length of her neck, the line down her ivory back and the dip of her small waist. Darcy went completely numb and stood frozen as the woman who held his very soul, now seared his already bloodied body with her dissonant song.

Unaware of her audience, Elizabeth continued, her fingers moving flawlessly across the stretch of keys. The music swelled, and a heart-wrenching anthem reached throughout the room and encompassed it. Elizabeth moved with the music, feeling each note, each chord resonating throughout her being. Everything that she could not let herself profess or act upon came flowing out of her fingertips. Her raw emotions, her incredible passion flooded the room and assaulted the gentleman who stood helplessly by the door.

The rhapsody waned, and a surprisingly sweet and simple melody took over. It lingered and teased in a minor chord, making it melancholy, almost haunting. The soft singular refrain seized what tiny portion was left of Darcy's heart; bound it tightly, and floated it back over to the illusory woman at the keys. The sad, exquisite piece ended, and Elizabeth sustained the last few notes before they resolved into a peaceful and blithe conclusion.

There was absolutely nothing left of him. She possessed him fully. He had no thought of his own anymore. They all originated from her or passed through her. Nothing seemed to exist apart from her. He certainly did not, and could not remember his life before Miss Elizabeth Bennet glanced his way.

Elizabeth stayed motionless in front of the instrument, until she sniffed and dabbed a handkerchief at her eyes. Without thinking, wanting to comfort her, Darcy took a step toward her. Elizabeth suddenly turned, and saw him. She caught her breath and immediately stood up, making the bench squeal against the floor, and it echoed throughout the room.

Neither knew what to say. It almost seemed that they were beyond words.

Darcy stared at her in wonder. She filled the room. First her music, and now her presence. He could see it, he could taste it. He was positive that he could grasp onto it if he put out his hand. Her brilliant green eyes flashed from across the expanse between them and brought him back to his senses.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Miss Bennet. I did not know you would be here. At Netherfield, I mean." he managed to mumble.

She stared at him, as his words sharply ran her through. _"I did not know you would be here_," she repeated to herself, as the sword plunged deeper.

_He came only because he thought she would be elsewhere. _Her head pounded with her pulse. She could only stare at the man who consumed her every thought. The man who no longer thinks of her.

He looked down at the puddle he was making, and realized how ridiculous he must look. "Excuse me, I must change." He turned and he was gone.

Elizabeth heard the door close, and took her first breath of air since she saw him. _She waited too long. _The man who had followed and pursued her faithfully was done, and she could not blame him. She felt sick and wrapped her arm around her middle. She could not bear one more tortuous minute in his presence.

Darcy sprinted up to his room, where he tried to get his bearings. He threw his jacket down, and peeled off the dripping cravat. He found some linen and started drying himself, as he paced the floor.

She was at Netherfield! She did not flee knowing he would come. She stayed. Elizabeth stayed! Now what was he supposed to do? How many times had he found himself in this very same situation? Could he be easy and flirt with her over dinner _once again_? Could he engage her in witty conversation, when all he wanted to do was declare himself in front of the entire world, and draw her into his arms? He was exhausted but elated that she was there, and resolved to do anything—be it winking at pheasants, turning music pages for her, to slipping a note under her door. Whatever it took.

He paced in front of the window while drying his hair and neck. The rain was coming down harder than it had during his ride. He stopped when a small flash of dazzling green caught the corner of his eye. He stood bewildered, as his mind tried to make sense of what was playing out in front of him.

Elizabeth did not care if Jane was disappointed. She did not care if everyone thought she was the most ill mannered creature that ever breathed! She could not bear it. She could not take one more moment of being under the same roof, of sharing the same air. How cruel of them to not tell him that she would be there, for it was _very_ clear he would not have come! He could not get out of that room quick enough, and now Elizabeth could not get out of Netherfield quick enough.

The rain pelted her as she hastened away from the house. Elizabeth picked up her gown and splashed through the puddles in her best shoes. Once again, her legs did not let her think beyond quitting Netherfield. Her muscles nimbly moved within her without direction, and carried her swiftly away. She found herself on the path toward Meryton, and would cut through the wood to Longbourn. Oh, how she longed for the woods.

"Aut disce aut discede!" she spat out loud through the rain. "Either learn or leave!"

She soon lost both of her slippers as they stuck tight in the mud, but she did not stop to retrieve either of them, for they were already ruined. All was ruined. She continued her pace and thought nothing as the rain came down even harder. Her thick hair and beautiful gown became heavy in the deluge, but she only fled faster as she turned the bend and the sheltering wood came into view.

Her hair finally came spilling down, and Elizabeth grasped at the jeweled pins, freeing the rest of her locks, and pocketed them. The woods were now before her, welcoming and beckoning her to its protective embrace. There she would disappear into its dark green interior, and never have to look back.

"Miss Bennet!" called a most familiar voice, a distance away.

Elizabeth's heart sputtered in her chest. She abruptly stopped, but did not turn. Mademoiselle's words started to play in her head.

"_For he weel be drawn to you, and weel find you, no matter…"_ But Elizabeth would not let her finish. She was angry with her. She did not believe her. Stupid French-gypsy-pirate!

His breathless voice came closer. "For how long are you going to continue to run?"

She stood still amidst the shower. Not turning. Not looking, but feeling everything.

"Miss Bennet. Will you do me the courtesy of facing me?" he demanded.

He was very close now. She did not want to see his face again. She did not think she could bear it. She stood for several seconds in the downpour without moving. Finally, taking a deep breath, she turned around.

Mr. Darcy stood before her without a jacket or cravat. The rain sheeting down upon him. His face was a mixture of anger, concern, and utter exhaustion, but he was _glorious_. He ran his hand through his hair to move it from his face, and his thin shirt was untucked and clung to him. From the knees down he was spattered in mud. He would have shocked anyone else with his uncivilized appearance, but he was the most beautiful being Elizabeth had ever beheld. The sharp pains that she fully expected from seeing him, jabbed at her chest and shot down through her limbs.

"This cannot continue, Madam," he managed while catching his breath.

"What, sir?" she asked without thinking.

He laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of it all. He threw his arms up. "This!" He took a step back and looked up at the stormy sky for a second.

"I am finished running after you! God knows I have done everything in my power to assure you of my affection. To tell you of my constancy. To prove to you that you, and only you, have my heart. Yet, once again, you flee from my presence without so much as a glance my way!"

The pain was evident on his face. Streams of rain ran down the lines that formed around his eyes, and laterally along the deep creases the agony etched in his forehead.

"You torment me. You spear my very soul… Do you enjoy it? Does it please you, that I once again lay broken and bleeding before you?" Darcy pointed to his left.

Elizabeth looked at where they were. They were no more than twenty feet from the great oak. She looked back at him, pleading.

"Please, Sir…" She could not go on, and she did not know why. She wanted to look away, but his eyes would not let hers go.

"Why will you not speak with me? Why will you not answer the letter that I gave you last April? Am I a dog that you should kick me out of the way? Am I nothing to you, Miss Bennet?"

She said nothing. She struggled with his words, with his professions. _They did not make sense. How could they when he just hastened from her presence? _ The rain continued to batter them both, and neither of them moved, but to gain the breath they lost in their haste.

"This is utter madness! I must be mad! For how else can it explain my actions?" He laughed as he looked down at himself. "Look at me! I am running after a specter that teases me in the daylight, and haunts my dreams at night. A mere ghost with no feeling, no soul, no comprehension!"

He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. _Elizabeth's handkerchief_. The handkerchief that she used to gently wipe scarlet from his head a forever ago. The one she lay on the ground when it could soak up no more. She took in a sudden breath at the sight of it.

"Only a madman would carry around a token that meant nothing." He held it out to her. "Take it, and be rid of me. I will have no more to do with this."

She glared at him and the handkerchief. Emotions battled for voice in her head, but she knew not where to begin.

"Take it! Have you no heart?" he continued. He saw that she would not take it, so he threw it down in the mud at her feet.

Elizabeth looked down at the handkerchief and then snapped back up at him. Her voice started low and measured, but grew with the swell of her heart.

"You know nothing, Sir. You do not know my heart, and you do not know me. You speak of feelings. Well, I have enough feelings to flood this valley and sweep all of us into the sea! Do not accuse, when you have no foundation!"

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a worn letter. His letter. Darcy recognized it immediately.

"Do not tell me that I have no feeling, no soul or comprehension! And do not think that you are the only one who lay broken and bleeding. I have been in agony this entire year. My feelings assault me, they will not let me rest, or leave me alone for one moment. My soul, Sir, is wearied from this journey and cannot take one more moment of it."

Darcy stood still in the downpour, taking in everything she said.

"Why have you not answered my letter?"

She turned the letter over to let him see that the seal has never been broken.

"You have never read it?" he said, exasperated.

"You have a way of breaking my resolve, Mr. Darcy. Breaking the seal would be the same thing," she admitted quietly.

An irritated smile crossed his face. "You are the most stubborn creature I have ever come across."

"I do not see what you find so amusing, Mr. Darcy."

"You think that by not opening my letter, that everything would go away? Are you that simple?"

"I am not simple, Sir!"

"And I am not mad! Answer my letter, Miss Bennet! Give me an answer!"

"But I do not know what is says!"

"You certainly do! How many ways do I have to express myself to you? Should I have a long talk with our Creator, and have him write it in the stars? Shall I teach my song to the sparrow or nightingale? Will not these trees cry out if you keep silent? For they witnessed it all, and they know it very well. Answer me!"

Hot tears came to her eyes and mixed with the drops that would not cease. _How could he treat her so? _

Darcy took a step closer, not releasing her from his gaze. Elizabeth fought back tears that melded with the rain, as he started to possess her with his deep piercing eyes. She could feel the warmth of his breath as she stood frozen, mesmerized by his words, by his face, by his very being.

He spoke in a low forceful voice, overrun with the feelings he has finally let loose. "Do you think it is fair that I have gone about like a fool for months on end declaring myself to you in every way conceivable? Do you require that I get on my knees and spill forth my insides?"

He took a deep breath, and she filled his lungs. How he wanted to kiss her angrily right then! He stepped back, found his wits and raised his voice.

"You profess that you have feelings enough to carry us away, Miss Bennet, but why will you not let _them_ speak? Do they have no voice of their own? Are they so tightly locked away, or do they need more proof of my own? Should I fall on my sword?! Will that loosen your mouth? Will it unlock your heart? Tell me once and for--"

And that was it. The world, Lady Catherine, and anyone else between them be damned to the deepest level of hell.

"I _do_ love you! I _have_ loved you! Can you not see? Can you not feel it when we are in the same room? Your very presence plagues me! How you afflict me! How you claim my every thought! How can you stand there and profess that I have no heart?! I understand everything you related to me. I comprehend you fully. I feel it acutely. It goes to the center of my being and devours everything else that I am. I see you, yet I cannot touch you. I hear you, yet cannot be comforted by your voice…" Elizabeth's faltering voice dropped as she tried desperately to breathe and not collapse in a heap in front of him.

Darcy stood stunned and amazed at her confession. He heard everything he had wished for and more. His chest could not take one more profession, and he looked at the woman before him who loved him, who _has_ loved him, and who was completely and utterly miserable because if it.

"Elizabeth…" he whispered, as he closed the gap between them.

His lips found hers, and he met no resistance as Elizabeth sighed and grabbed his strong shoulders with all her might, letting his saturated letter fall next to the handkerchief below. The rain slowly leached away the ink, and as in her dream, everything around them melted away, pooled at their feet and soaked into the ground. Only Elizabeth and the man who would find her no matter where she would go existed, and they each answered every desperate and unspoken question between them.

Darcy finally pulled away for a breath, but did not let go of her face. He looked at her with exhilaration as she smiled at him amazed, and tried to breathe through the downpour.

"I told you that I would never compromise you, Elizabeth. Marry me. Say you will be my wife, and never run from me again…"

Something unpleasant flashed across Elizabeth's face and she broke the gaze. He pulled her face up to his again, refusing to be without those eyes if he could help it.

"What is it, my love?" he entreated.

"It is just that I need to tell you something that I am afraid will make you angry. That will make you think very ill of me," she whispered.

Darcy looked down at her concerned. He released her face, but moved his hand down to hold her cold wet hand.

Elizabeth took a breath. "I am responsible for your fall… for your accident last November."

Darcy simply stared at her not understanding what she was saying. Elizabeth knew that she must continue, and the rain persisted without mercy.

"I was very upset by something that had happened at home."

"Collins' proposal?" He smiled at her.

Her eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"Does it matter? I am terribly upset that I am not the first, but what else can I expect? For you are all loveliness," he whispered teasingly in her ear.

"Please, you must hear me out," Elizabeth pleaded.

"Continue with your confession," he urged, trying not to smile.

"I thought I was all alone in the woods, so I yelled at the top of my lungs, and startled the blackbirds… The same blackbirds that flew out in front of your horse."

Darcy knitted his brow together.

"I found you only minutes later. I am so sorry. My indecorous behavior caused you a great deal of pain, and I cannot look upon my actions without great mortification." Elizabeth tried to look down, but he would not let her. He had his hand under her chin again, and he looked at her gravely as the rain streamed down her worried face.

"That is a very bitter confession, indeed," he said with a low severe voice. "I only see one way out at this point, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth looked at him quizzically as his stoic face melted and he was _beaming_.

Without waiting for her to respond, he swept her up in his arms and made his way under the shelter of the great oak. They reached the base of the tree where the rain lessened, and he slowly lowered her to her feet, but his lips brushed against her ear and he did not let go of her tiny waist.

"Answer me, Elizabeth," he breathed.

"But Sir…" she whispered.

He buried his face against the side of her head and neck, pulling her side into him, and spoke quietly yet fervently into her ear. "My happiest day happened right here. You may yell all you want. You may strike me with a rock yourself. I fell in love with you in this very spot, and have never regretted it. Dearest Elizabeth, tell me that you will marry me right away."

He released her from his grasp, and she turned to face him. Elizabeth looked up at him in awe, and brushed a few drops away from his face with her fingers.

"This is _my_ happiest day, Mr. Darcy… Yes, I will marry you. Right away." She smiled, and her emerald eyes told him everything he has ever wanted to know.

He caught his breath, pulled her into him and crushed his joyful lips onto hers. If he were not holding her up, Elizabeth was certain that her legs would have given way, yet somehow her hands explored his angular face and wet curls, while one of his hands tangled in her hair and the other pulled her in as close as he could. Darcy encompassed her. He was everything. He was everywhere. Their lines blurred and dissolved. With her eyes closed, there was no certainty where she ended and he began, as he held her tightly against him.

All was forgotten. All was changed. All was utter happiness.

Everything was done as it should. The engaged pair walked back arm-in-arm in the downpour to Netherfield, where Elizabeth, drenched, in a daze with muddy stockings, let an euphoric Jane take her to find dry clothes. While Darcy, with a slap on the back from Bingley, quickly changed, and was off to Longbourn to speak with Mr. Bennet. But not before he took hold of a dripping Elizabeth one more time, and kissed her senseless in front of her own sister and his friend.

The two were married in Longbourn by special license three weeks later.

It is a truth not typically known that a young woman in possession of a large amount of pride and impertinence, must be in want of a little rain, an unread letter and a deep green silk dress. Such was the experience of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Now Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy--the great Mistress of Pemberley, who did not merely love and respect her husband, but would have taken on one thousand Lady Catherine's if necessary, for she was a soldier, and thus armed. And Elizabeth in turn, was loved completely by her steadfast husband, and in a manner the lady never dreamed of and few ever get to experience.

EPILOGUE

Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy honeymooned abroad for five months, bringing back many books and some select artwork for the Darcy collection. Although they did spend some time in their London home, most of their time was spent at Pemberley where they lived a quiet and happy life surrounded by true friends and loving family. They were blessed with three sons and a daughter over the years, and like Mrs. Gardiner, Elizabeth was barely altered, at least not in her affectionate husband's eyes.

Mr. and Mrs. Charles Bingley had six children, and came to quit Netherfield after only one year. They bought an estate only twenty miles from Pemberley were the sisters, and now brothers-in-law, could spend happy times together and have their children grow up together.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet lived to see all five of their daughters enter the state of matrimony. Mary was married the following year to the Longbourn curate, Mr. Welsh, in a small and properly solemn ceremony.

After being separated from Lydia for a few months, Kitty was able to grow out of much of her silliness, and was able to join society again with a much greater sense of grace and propriety. And with the advantages of two well-connected sisters and a modified inheritance that all the younger sisters were granted, at the age of two and twenty, Kitty happily married the young and well connected Colonel Lawrence. Apparently, redcoats were not completely forgot.

Lydia was not allowed in society for almost two years after her flight. She managed to improve a little, but only to appease those who demanded the change, and to regain her pin money. She learned to keep her mouth closed at the proper times, though the same silly thoughts and obstinate mindset still brewed below the surface. And since she was a very pretty thing, a very admiring gentleman, a Mr. Ransom, who spent many evenings enjoying her smiles and her artful fan work, asked for her hand. Mr. Bennet gave them his blessing, and could not but help but see himself in the gentleman's eyes, knowing what a rude awakening it was to realize one day, in the not too distant future, that you were married to the silliest woman in England.

Georgiana could not have been happier in her dear brother's choice in a wife, for now she had the sister that she had always wished for. She lived with them at Pemberley full time after her studies were complete. Elizabeth helped her make her reluctant transition into society when she was eighteen, but she was never comfortable at balls and assemblies, but was able to bear them especially when another new sister whom she loved, Kitty, was with her. At the age of three and twenty, she accepted the hand of the young Lord Ambridge, who was to be the next Earl of Forbes, and who was not interested in Georgiana's fortune, as he had more money than he cared to know. He had happy and open manners, preferred the country over Town, and preferred the reserved and sweet Georgiana over all the other ladies who tripped over themselves to catch his eye. He loved her just as she was.

Colonel Fitzwilliam chose to fight in several of the Napoleonic uprisings and made his own fortune in doing so. And although wounded, and forced to use a cane for the rest of his life, he found his very own angelic savior in the form of a wealthy French widow, whose arch glances and quick wit reminded him of someone he once fancied very much. He was able to bring her and her two very young daughters into England safely, where they married, and eventually had two boys together who were greatly doted upon.

Mr. and Mrs. Collins were blessed with a child, a daughter, just one week after Elizabeth and Darcy were married. One more daughter followed two years later. And as it was written, the Longbourn estate was entailed away from them, as it was from its earlier female predecessors.

The Gardiners had two more children, and continued to be successful and desired by good society, and even more so, now that their nieces were so well connected.

Caroline lived in Town with the Hursts, who never had children, until she married at the age of eight and twenty. Sir Trent was two and fifty, and a very wealthy widower, who wanted an accomplished and stylish young wife on his arm, and Caroline was willing to play the part. She was well aware that he had a beautiful young woman that he would go out in public with, but she did not have the name or the connections, so he provided an apartment for her and paid for the education of the two children she had with him. He had three legitimate sons near Caroline's age, who made sure that she would not inherit all of his wealth, and made her quite miserable indeed with their gambling and wild lifestyles. But Caroline had her own house, her own carriages and only had to endure ten years with the man before he passed on. She was handsomely rewarded for her decade of service and remarried within a year to another wealthy widower.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh died choking on a pheasant bone. Anne de Bourgh married a very kind and respectable gentleman, whom Lady Catherine would have never approved of, less than three months after her mother's passing. And surprising everyone, Anne produced an heir one year later.

Wickham was never heard from again, although there were rumors that once in Australia, he meddled with the wrong plantation owner's daughter, and woke up to the barrel of an angry rifle. Yet there were other rumors that he indeed worked as a hired hand on a plantation for a while but then drifted from town to town looking for work, never staying in one place long enough to become noticeable.

Mademoiselle Adele dressed Elizabeth, Jane, Georgiana and Kitty until she retired quite prosperous at a ripe old age. And Elizabeth's green dress was passed down from daughter to daughter through the generations, along with a handkerchief, an unopened and now blank letter, and the wonderful and fanciful tale that went with it.

Thank you for reading to the very end.

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